


The First Rule

by Redring91



Series: Broken Rules and Consequences [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Classic Who companions are awesome, Doctor Who Feels, Doctor Who References, Gen, Insecurity, Loneliness, Memory Alteration, Multiple Selves, Names are important to Time Lords, Or to put him on Trial, Regeneration, Self-Hatred, Self-Worth Issues, Time Lords only call The Doctor when they want help, Time Travel complicates things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2014-11-08
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:35:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 144,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redring91/pseuds/Redring91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“The first and most important law of Time,” the professor said gravely to the room, “is that you are expressly forbidden, in all circumstances, to interact with any of your other selves.”</p><p>But no one ever explains to them why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning (If there ever is such a thing)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in celebration of 50 years of brilliance, I decided to finally write this up. I’ve had this idea for a while, and I’ve always been interested in how the Doctor interacts with his Other Selves.
> 
> This is going to be a look at the reason for that first rule, how often it is broken by the Doctor.  
> And the ramifications and toll it takes on all of the Doctors. Because all rules exist for a reason, even if it isn’t the reason you think.
> 
> At this stage, this story is only going to focus on Classic Who, and though I may make small references to the Newer series, it is not focal to this story. Things start fairly slowly. After all, there was only One Doctor in the Beginning.

-1-

“The first and most important law of Time,” the professor said gravely to the room, “is that you are expressly forbidden, in all circumstances, to interact with any of your other selves.”

He sighs softly, his foot bouncing against the floor soundlessly under his desk. He doesn’t like sitting still for so long, and this day has gone on forever. He can’t voice this concern of course; it will prompt another lecture about misusing temporal terms.

His friend gets his attention by drumming his fingers quietly against the surface of his desk as he leans in to whisper.

“This is becoming boring.”

He fights the urge to grin. “Maybe we should have stayed in the lab.” He whispers back.

His friend hums, but stays silent, because the girl in front of them whirls around and glares haughtily. Perhaps mentioning the lab near her had been a mistake – they had both ruined her biochemistry experiment (by accident!) in there only a few days ago. The sonic explosion that destroyed their workstation a few moments later had not helped matters either. He ducks his head down until he feels her gaze leave him.

[Many years and many lives later, he will think back on this moment as he looks at the woman who calls herself The Rani and the man who calls himself The Master, and wonder if perhaps these accidents had not been accidents after all.]

“This first rule is one that, above all else, must be obeyed.” The professor continues. “There is no alternative.”

“Whatever.” He hears his friend mutter beside him. “No one commands me.”

“What’s the point of rules if you can’t bend them occasionally?” He murmurs back in agreement as an attempt to pacify him, and it seems to work, because his friend grunts and leans back in his chair.

The professor’s voice is a cold weight that settles throughout the air. “You cannot cross your own time stream.”

He lets his attention wander. They have all been taught this before; it is a lesson that is repeated now and then. He doesn’t see the point of it. After all, it’s not as though he would ever be in a situation where the first rule would apply. Nothing different ever happens in the Capital. And besides, there’s only One of him. 

-

When he decided to leave Gallifrey, he wondered why he hadn’t done it sooner. This TARDIS is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and now he has the ability to get out there and see all those stars he used to dream of. 

He steals the TARDIS, runs as far away from Gallifrey as he can, and doesn’t look back. He will never go back.

(There have been no more experiments in a lab, no whispered conversations, no running from trouble for many years and he grows sad in the silence. He tells himself it is because he is older.)

(He does not want to be alone.)

Susan is bright and eager to learn. A part of her calls for adventure. But he knows that another part of her does not feel the wanderlust as he does. She is not as comfortable to be an exile, a wanderer in the fourth dimension, so he tells her that one day they will go back. When she expresses interest in that small, but beautiful, planet of humans, he allows her to stay a while, to integrate herself into their lives to better her understanding. It is much easier to learn something when experiencing it for yourself. 

He does not expect her to bring two humans back, however unintentionally.

-

He knows it is going to happen long before it does. Susan is not a child anymore; she is a woman in her own right. She needs to have her own identity, and belong to a time and a place in the way that he never can. But he also knows that she will never willingly leave him. His granddaughter loves him dearly, and like him, she doesn’t like to say goodbye.

He locks her out of the TARDIS.

“One day, I shall come back,” he tells her. “Yes, I shall come back. Until then, there must be no regrets, no tears, no anxieties. Just go forward in all your beliefs, and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine.”

His hearts are heavy as they dematerialise. It hurts to leave Susan. He cannot help but feel that he is a man alone; one Time Lord, cast adrift from his own people.

Ian and Barbara watch him with gentle smiles and sad eyes. They are a comfort to him and he has grown very fond of them, the silly old fuss pots. Travelling with these humans has been good for him. It has made him quicker to smile, and resurrected his long since abandoned urge to meddle in affairs that the Time Lords would insist he leave well alone.

(After all, rules can be bent, can they not?)

Perhaps he will still be able to share his wonder at the universe with these humans, and maybe by doing so, this lonely ache of his will fade.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, things start slow. A lot of this story is all about the Doctor and the Time Lords, so naturally he is all by his lonesome at first. (And every lonely Doctor is a general angst machine)
> 
> But two unfamiliar faces turn up next and our Doctor is not impressed.
> 
> The Chapter title is borrowed from the temporal agents that appear in Star Trek: Deep Space Nine: Trial & Tribble-ations
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including An Unearthly Child; Keys of Marinus; The Sensorites; Planet of Giants; The Dalek Invasion of Earth; The Chase; The Three Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	2. The Three Doctors (One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I adore William Hartnell’s Doctor. And I think it’s sweet that all the other Doctor’s defer to him when he’s around.

-2-

The argument that takes place between the two Time Lords is quick and decisive.

“This is an emergency!” is met with “The first law must be obeyed!”

But the struggle to combat the energy drain leaves them with no other choice. The repercussions to the Doctor’s time stream are sure to be negligible in the scale of things.

“They have only a limited time together” is both a dismissal and justification for what they are doing.

After all, the whole of Gallifrey is at risk in this battle against the powers of the black hole, and the Doctor is only one man. (One, Two and Three in this particular Temporal Moment)

[Later, when the crisis is done, one Time Lord is given the credit for effectively managing the emergency and his rank is elevated as a reward. The other Time Lord gives the (Third) Doctor back his knowledge of Time Travel as an appeasement. He does not want the exiled wanderer to question or mention the experience. Any reference to the broken law is removed and those who were present are told to keep silent]

-

He is very indignant when the Time Lords steal him out of Time. For all their condemnation of his meddling in his younger years, they are quick to break their own rules when it suits their purpose. He did not ask to be summonsed, nor does he intend to stay. His companions will be worried and he must return to them.

He is outraged when they make their request (it is no request; he knows how they speak, and it is a demand)

“You have no right to do this, no right!” He shouts at them. “What about the first law of time?”

He gets no satisfactory answer to this and does not get the opportunity to say anything further, because they are already sending him to his other selves.

(He does not actually mind the situation, because he is a scientist and ultimately curious. It is the circumstances he detests; he does not like the fact that the Time Lords feel they can break all the rules and summon him on a whim. It makes him angry.)

Naturally, the incompetent fools cannot even manage to get him all the way across the converging time streams.

It is a bizarre moment, when he sees them both. They are him. He will be them, one first and then the other. His next self, Two, even in the seriousness of the situation, has a whimsical light in his eye. But he appears flustered and scatterbrained. His other self, Three, seems endlessly restless, though he conceals it well, as though this is common practise. His shoulders bear the weight of an injustice, hurt and betrayal. But there is also the sense that he is waiting, for someone to come along and make a mess of his work, but he will not really mind if it is the right person.

(He knows both of them; he knows how it feels to feel the way they do. They are different parts of him brought to the surface, brought to light. He tries not to think about what it means for his future that he will become like this)

They are squabbling like children of half a century. He is not impressed with them at all.

“So you’re my replacements?” (Because they will replace him one day – he will fade away and Two will take his place) “A dandy and a clown.”

They both look offended. So they should be, he thinks. But at least he has their attention now. He is swift to put them both in their place, and gives them the information they need to start working on this problem, before the waning power draws him away from them.

-

When he manages to break through once more, Two is still there. He has remained, while the other has crossed the bridge into the black hole. He is flanked by the two soldiers, but they seem to be offering him support rather than violence. It is an interesting change from his own present.

“Made any progress?” His asks his future self. The answer is a negative and he makes a displeased sound. Of course there hasn’t been.

(He is still angry – at the Times Lords, not at his other selves, but they are here and the Time Lords are not, so they must bear the brunt of his temper – and he ignores the way that Two’s shoulders slump slightly, because he knows that tone and what it means)

He is frustrated. Trapped in this infernal time eddy, he cannot act and is relegated to watching his other selves struggle on alone. The other Time Lords are growing weaker and are of no help.

(They are never of any help)

(And he is always alone)

“We can’t help you,” Two says impassionedly, trying to hide his guilt and worry, and clearly does not know what to do.

He has worked it out by now, and so he tells his future self what he needs to do. “Turn off your force field.” 

Two is confused, but it is not just with his instruction. There is something deeper at work in Two’s mind, but he does not linger on it; he will be that man one day, and he will live the moment himself. Or perhaps it is only because becoming younger has made him more foolish. Still, he gives himself the benefit of the doubt.

“Use your intelligence.” 

His tone is sharp, but the words are an acknowledgement. They are both the same man after all. And as he is stolen away again, he is pleased to see that Two straightens his shoulders and gets to work.

-

“Well what do you want now?” He demands in outrage. The Time Lords view him solemnly, and if he had the ability to storm away he would. Both of his other selves are trapped in the black hole and he is helpless (and hopeless).

They want to send him after them. “All three are needed to beat Omega.”

For a moment he is confused. How do they know about Omega, if they’ve been so busy fighting the energy drain? Then he realises, and he is furious with them. They are still monitoring his time stream! He is beyond outrage now – this is a gross violation, to monitor his time stream while it is in such a state of flux, twisting and pulsing in a way no other Time Lord’s has before, as the first law is disregarded. He has never trusted these pompous, self-rightous fools, and he never will.

He can only depend on himself.

(His two other selves are also depending on him. If he is not there for himself, then who will be?)

“All right.”

-

He is so relieved to see them both alive and unharmed that he is overcome with an urge to hug them both fiercely, and he suspects for a moment that if he were able to, he would have done without thought. He thinks it is because they look and act like unruly children, and he is still a grandfather.

He doesn’t let them see it, of course. “In a pretty pickle aren’t you? Trapped in your own TARDIS.”

Two’s retort is quick and instinctual. “You’re trapped in your own bubble. You can talk!”

Well. He thinks. This one is sharp after all. Perhaps he has underestimated him.

(He is always hardest on himself)

They all make telepathic contact with each other to find the solution, three minds becoming one. It is much easier to let his other selves into his mind than it ever was to touch the mind of another Time Lord. Two and Three may be different, but they are both still also The Doctor. He gives them everything he can, and tells them he is going to report back, and will let them know.

He does not go back to the Time Lords straight away. He huddles in the time eddy, exhausted, and hopes he gave them enough. He waits, and trusts in his other selves.

(Because he doesn’t trust himself. But perhaps he can learn to trust another self)

-

They succeed and the danger passes. Both Two and Three stand before him, beaming up at him like proud children. He does not smile like a proud parent, but he concentrates very hard on the warmth of this moment, and hopes they both remember. 

“I shudder to think what you will do without me!”

When he feels himself being pulled back by the Time Lords, to be deposited back into his own Time, he does not say goodbye to any of them. There is no point – he’ll have to do this twice more.

-

He is strangely lonely when he returns. His companions frown at him and worry, despite his efforts to reassure them. He does not understand why he feels this way. He struggles to keep hold of the memories, but they seem to slip through his fingers like grains of sand when he grasps at them. He remembers sensation, emotions and vague impressions of his other selves, but he cannot focus on details and the specifics elude him. He decides to put it out of his mind for now. Such an experience is unlikely to happen again (aside from when he must relive it as Two, and then as Three).

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Multiple Doctors = Multiple Feels. I love watching The Three Doctors.
> 
> While you don’t really need to have knowledge of the episodes I explore in this story to understand the Doctor’s character, I think it is probably helpful. But I’m writing this because I’m obsessed with Who and as such there is an assumption of knowledge.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The Three Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	3. The Five Doctors (One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very pleased that us Aussies are going to get the 50th Anniversary special simultaneously to the UK and US instead of being a day behind, to thwart all the pirates. However – THREE FIFTY A.M?? On a weekend?!?! (Wails and despairs about time zones.)
> 
> This chapter, and the other Five Doctors ones that eventually follow, took forever to plan and write. I am torn between “so much research argh” and “research is Doctor Who – awesome!” Expect lots of Other-Doctor feels, Self-Doctor feels, companion feels, and lots of Doctor-Master feels.
> 
> In this story, there may be somewhat slashy undertones that can be inferred between The Doctor and other characters, but I am sticking to Episode canon, and since nothing happened on camera, nothing will be definitively stated. I shall leave the nature of his relationships all up to your imagination.
> 
> Full points to Richard Hurndall’s performance as the First Doctor. He did a great job at honouring William Hartnell.

-3-

The man surveys the Time Scoop before him, flexing his gloved fingers in anticipation. He is ready to play the Game, and claim his prize.

The first stage of the game is collecting his pieces.

-

He excuses himself from his companions to take a stroll in the gardens. He needs to take time out from their presence now and then; they are young, loud and a touch rambunctious at times, and they have all had quite a lot of excitement these past few weeks. He is fond of Vicki and Steven, and enjoys their company, but he still enjoys a moment or two of peace to himself. He is an old man after all.

He catches sight of the time distortion and it fills him with an instinctive horror – some long dormant race memory perhaps, and that does not bode well. He turns and flees as best he can, but it tracks him across the gardens and he cannot escape it. It wraps around him and steals him out of time.

-

The wrongness of the distortion has left him feeling shaky and ill. He wanders around the corridors of the labyrinth he has found himself in and searches for signs of life. He pauses when he sees movement, and then a woman steps into his sight. He does not recognise her at first, but when he does, the breath is stolen from his lungs.

“Susan. Surely it’s Susan.”

“Grandfather!” She runs to him and throws her arms around him.

(What happened to the young woman that he left behind? She is now much older than she was when he saw her last. How much of her life has he missed? There are so many things he wishes to hear from her – how happy she is with David. Did they marry? What was their wedding like; did she get anyone to give her away? What sort of lives did they make for themselves? Have they a family, children of their own? Does she tell tales of the old man sailing the stars in a blue box?)

(Has she missed him? Thought of him every day, just as he has thought of her?)

Now, however, is not the time for such idle talk. They must find out why they are here, wherever here is, and how they are to return to their own times.

They turn and see the Dalek; they run as it sees them. He makes sure that Susan is before him, and he is determined to keep her safe.

(He thinks of Katarina. He thinks of David, and the waiting he will do if Susan never returns.)

-

When he feels he can run no longer, they find a dead end, and thanks to the refractive capabilities of the walls, the Dalek exterminates itself. The explosion caused allows him to see outside and the surrounding landscape chills his blood.

“The Dark Tower…” He breathes. Suddenly, he feels like a child, frightened of an old ghost story.

“We’re on Gallifrey.” Susan realises. 

“The Death Zone.” He agrees. She grips his hand tightly, and he reminds himself that he is an adult. He will do as he always does; take charge of the situation and let the young ones take comfort from him.

(She will always be a child to him, even if she is a grown woman.)

-

As they make their way across the landscape, he grows more and more petulant. Susan gives him a rather pointed look, and he insists he must rest with great theatrics, as if it was his idea and not hers. She scouts a little way ahead as he sits.

(His body is old, and it is beginning to wear him down, especially when trying to keep pace with his energetic companions. His body is old, but his mind is still sharp, and it is his mind that he must depend on to get him out of this mess.)

Susan calls for his attention – she has found the TARDIS. They make for it with great relief.

The TARDIS lets him in eagerly, but he feels that something is wrong. He looks around as he moves inside. The TARDIS is different, both in the way it looks and the way it feels, it is not the same as he last saw it. Before he can ponder this over, he sees two unfamiliar people rise on the other side of the console room; one is a young man in a well-worn suit, the other a colourfully dressed woman.

“What are you young people doing in my TARDIS?”

The woman is quite indignant. “It’s his TARDIS!” She points to another young man unconscious on the floor.

“And who might he be?”

“The Doctor.”

“Hmm? Good grief!” He stares down at the boy. The situation they are in must be worse than he first feared. Why has this boy ended up in this state? (This boy is him.)

As if called, the boy opens his eyes blearily. “You’re here. You’re here.”

He helps him up carefully. The poor boy looks so weak and vulnerable, and appears terribly disorientated. He thinks of how he was stolen from time and brought here. What would that have done to this boy? He had clearly arrived in the TARDIS. How would it have felt, having a small part of you vanish? He does not have the time now to wonder, and in any case, he will discover it in time.

(This boy is even younger than the other two selves he has once before met. It is strange; standing here with another self, he can see the other two faces that he has met clearly in his mind, as he has not been able to since the events took place.)

“Regeneration?”

“Fourth.” 

“Goodness me, there are five of me now!”

(He wonders how long this boy has been this boy. He wonders about regeneration. How much longer will he be One? For how long will he live as Two and Three and Four and Five? He has seen someone regenerate before, the old body dying for the new one to take its place. He is not necessarily morbid, but doesn’t everyone wonder what happens when you die?)

He introduces Susan, though he doesn’t have to. Five’s eyes are warm as he looks at her and smiles. He turns to the young companions. “And you two are?”

“Turlough.” Says the young man.

“And I’m Tegan Jovanka.” The woman says. “Who might you be?” 

“I am The Doctor. The original, you might say.”

(Tegan Jovanka is not confused by the concept that they are both The Doctor. Nor is Turlough. They understand regeneration it seems; he sees the realisation pass across their expressions. But while Turlough has a pensive look on his face, that of a man who is reconciling physical proof with long held knowledge, Tegan’s eyes are momentarily haunted. She has witnessed it.)

Once the companions disperse, he takes his other self aside, to discuss the situation. Five looks confused a moment, clutching at his hearts while he frowns, as if at a remembered pain. Then there is a shake of the head, and he doesn’t have much to tell, except for the knowledge that they are all trapped in the Death Zone. 

-

It does not take long for them to disagree.

(Perhaps that is inevitable when talking to someone who is another aspect of yourself.)

He thinks it would be wiser to stay and wait in the TARDIS for their other selves, who are bound to be wandering around nearby. But Five is a young and impatient thing, and wants to rush out now and head for the Tower. He is imploring passionately, refusing to give in, but neither will he.

There is some brief input from his companions, and suddenly Five actually attempts to reign himself in and settles on a compromise. Hmm. As they work together to set up the scanner, he wonders idly what that was about. He doesn’t ask, as he supposes he will know one day.

-

There are three ways into the Tower; above, below, and the main door. Five plans to use the main door. It is a direct approach to the problem, and he admits to himself that he is impressed.

-

He agrees to let the boy go. He probably should have waited until his companions were out of earshot, because young Tegan declares she wants to go with him. He tries to tell her she should remain in the TARDIS where it is safe, but she is insistent, and Five relents and agrees.

(He knows that Five will keep Susan safe as he would. But he worries about the wisdom of sending Tegan also. If they run into trouble, Five will defend Susan first. It isn’t that he thinks Five cares for one girl less than the other, but Susan is their grandchild, and Tegan is a friend. Paternal instinct is hard to overcome – it is after all an instinct.)

Then Five starts babbling instructions at him rapidly as he prepares to leave with the girls, asking if he knows what he is supposed to do. 

“Of course.” He cuts across him in exasperation, rolling his eyes. The impertinence of young people.

-

Turlough seems to be a very agreeable companion – he is sparse with words, respects his personal space, and doesn’t bother with any false pleasantries. He also seems to be uncomfortable with his loyalty for Five, and does not know how to regulate his concern and worry, as though all these things are new experiences for him.

The young man’s question is casual, and does not put into words what he is really asking. “Do you think it will take The Doctor long to reach the Tower?”

His tone is gentle when he responds, to reassure Turlough, but he does not insult the boy’s intelligence by lying to him. “It depends on what may try to stop him, my boy. It’s not without reason it’s called the Death Zone.”

They are distracted by data from the scanner. It has detected two more Doctors nearby in the Zone, converging on the Tower. They must both be young and impatient version of him too. This accounts for four of him now.

“I wonder what happened to the other?”

-

Five has vanished, Susan has injured her ankle, and Tegan is angry as she recounts what has happened. He listens absently, but his mind is shaken.

(The Master is here, The Master is here, The Master is here.)

Turlough is watching him closely, and as the girls get to the end of their tale, he is quick to prompt further discussion about their situation, and Five, neatly steering the conversation away from the renegade Time Lord.

(He wonders what this boy knows of The Master, and what Five has told him. He wonders how well this boy understands him, if he can read One as well as he can read Five. What is he looking for, and what does he see?)

He resolves to go to the Tower in Five’s place. His other selves are going to need his help, and he must find Five. He knows that Five should have returned to the Death Zone by now (for his friends, for The Master, for his other selves) and the fact that he hasn’t shown up on the scanner yet means that something is wrong. So, to Rassilon’s tomb he must go.

(Someone once told him that he was a very brave man. He told them that he was only doing what has to be done.)

“I’ll come with you.” Tegan says.

“Oh. Oh, well, if you must.”

(It is dangerous for him to get to know these two young people. They are not his companions; they are part of his future, and any impressions he takes of them now, Five may remember when he meets them. He has spent too much time with Turlough already, and now it seems he will learn more of Tegan as well. Still, he is thankful. She seems as worried for him as she is for Five.)

“Thank you my dear.”

-

He tries to remain distant from her, this fiery young woman, so as not to know her better. He begins to lag behind. He did not think much of his other selves, Two and Three, when he met them, or whether what he saw and knew would affect them. He wonders what they remembered from him during that incident, if they were able to remember anything at all.

“Come on Doc, you can make it.” Tegan calls encouragingly. This infuriates him for no reason.

(His body is old; old and frail. It is weak, prone to physical exhaustion. Sometimes his words do not come as swiftly as he would like and sometimes his hands shake. His body cannot keep up with the intensity of his mind, and he longs for youth.)

“Well of course I can, young woman.” He snaps. “And kindly refrain from addressing me as ‘Doc.’”

-

They reach the entrance to the Tower and enter it. His mood has mellowed by now, and he is careful to moderate his tone when addressing Tegan. They reach a section of the floor with a chequered board on it, and he stops her from crossing.

“Don’t be in such a hurry.” (Children. Always in such a rush.) “It could cost you your life.”

As he suspected, once crossed half way, the board becomes a death trap. He is grudgingly fascinated by the diabolical ingenuity that his ancestors seemed to possess.

“Our ancestors had such a wonderful sense of humour.” Comes a voice behind him.

He turns, surprised, but the face is not one he has seen before. “Do I know you, young man?”

The look of affronted irritation and anger he gets in return make his hearts contract in shock. It cannot be…

“Believe it or not, we were at the Academy together,” is the snide response.

(He has lost the ability to speak. The Master, it is The Master. He has not seen his old friend in so many long years; there is too much hurt, too much pain that had rested between them, too many things that went wrong, and they are both to blame. He has never been good with words, and does not know what to say, so he says nothing.)

Tegan is clearly distrustful. “What do you want?”

The Master’s response is “to help,” and he remembers that inflection, even if he does not recognise the tone due to the new voice; this answer is genuine.

Tegan is highly sceptical. The Master continues to address Tegan, but he knows the words are directed at him.

“Believe what you like. I should advise you to hide. I’ve got some very suspicious allies close behind me.”

(Why does it always seem to come back to this? One forcing the other to leave or one leaves the other behind?)

Tegan pulls him away to hide. He listens as The Master speaks to the Cybermen who follow him in. His voice is filled with old anger and a burning need for vengeance.

(This is true enough for The Master who is synchronous with his time stream. This Master is even older, and has regenerated at least once more since then. What else has his old friend lived through, and how much of it is going to be his fault?)

The Cybermen make The Master step out onto the chequered board. Then they demand that he cross to the other side. He holds his breath, watching as The Master does so. Nothing happens. He exhales, and The Master crosses back.

The Cybermen are not so fortunate. The trap is sprung, and all but the leader are struck down. The leader is as furious as a Cyberman can be, and threatens to destroy The Master. (That was a mistake.) The Master destroys him first.

He watches his old friend closely as he speaks of war, searching for the man he knew. Tegan is appalled by The Master’s actions, and this gives him reason to pause. He does not think that Tegan mourns the Cyberman, she does not seem to be distressed by their loss, but her hatred for The Master is clear. And it is personal. (The Master has wronged her in some way, and she will not forgive him.)

Before he can speak, The Master skips across the board, before turning back to look at him. “Try it Doctor, it’s as easy as pi!” And then, before he runs off, he grins – and there he is. There is his friend, his lab partner, his partner in crime. 

“What an extraordinary fellow.” He remarks casually, ignoring Tegan’s disbelief. The Master is still a genius. “As easy as pi!” 

(The Master he cares for is still there, beneath the new man he has now become. He can still reach him. He can still save him.)

-

Tegan is beginning to waver in the face of the will of Rassilon. She has a strong spirit and a brave heart, and has tried to hide her doubts for a while. He offers her some encouragement.

“Fear itself is largely an illusion.” He tells her. “And at my age, there’s little left to fear.”

She looks at him sadly. (Five is younger, but he is also older, and he has fears.)

He leads her on. He pretends he does not know that his old friend is hiding nearby, listening in and is preparing to follow them. They used to play that game when they were the young ones. (He finds this somewhat encouraging.)

-

They enter the tomb, and not long after Three arrives, with a young companion he takes care not to look at. But he still hears the name as she introduces herself to Tegan. “Sarah.”

He needles Three a little, just because he can, and then gets him to assist with looking at the inscription he has found. He remembers that Three is first and foremost a scientist. As they begin to inspect the inscription, he asks “what’s happened to the little fellow?”

Two arrives at that very moment, and is properly irritated by this remark. He stalks over and shoves them gently aside to have a look at the inscription himself.

-

It does not take the three of them long to decipher the inscription, and he admits to himself that the translation leaves him quite worried. 

(The Master is nearby. He was often called the Master of Death by some of their old associates; his deaths were violent and bloody, and his regenerations swift. He ran from death, to death, always following the call of war, and always he survived. If he enters the tomb, he will be tempted.)

He cuts across the beginnings of more bickering between Two and Three, and continues the explanation to all their companions. “It also promises that whoever takes the ring from Rassilon’s hand and puts it on shall get the reward he seeks.”

“What reward?” 

“Immortality.”

“Thank you gentlemen.” The Master says smoothly as he enters the tomb, a weapon drawn upon them. “That is exactly what I needed to know.”

(No. Please, no.)

“I came here to help you. A little unwillingly, but I came. My services were scorned, my help refused. Now I shall help myself, to immortality.”

“Out of the question.” His response is swift. (Immortality is not a gift. No Time Lord should have that power. He will stand between it and The Master if he has to. He hopes it will not come to that – both he and The Master will hate it.)

The power of Rassilon’s will has been ever constant in the tomb since they arrived, a presence in the room that him and his other selves have all sensed, but it has left them alone. Now, that will is bearing down on The Master, drumming in time to his hearts, and his eyes are alight with madness as he drifts the aim of his weapon back and forth between all three of his selves.

(While the weapon moves steadily between them all, The Master’s eyes do not. They are primarily focused on Three, though he glances at Two once or twice. He does not look at One at all.)

(He wonders why The Master is reluctant to do this. Is he too having thoughts of the children they were and the games they used to play with each other? For a moment, he has hope.)

“Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor. How gratifying to do it three times over!”

(!!!!!!!)

(The Master kills him, The Master kills him, The Master kills him, The Master kills him, The Master kills him, The Master kills him.)

(He does not want to know which one of him it will be.)

The Brigadier delivers a swift punch to The Master’s face and knocks him out.

He is the one who approaches the renegade to check on him. Two is frowning at the floor, avoiding everyone’s gaze, and Three looks uncomfortable and embarrassed. The Master seems to be alright, and he doesn’t think the man will be out for very long.

Tegan suggests vehemently that they should tie him up. Sarah offers to help, but she looks to The Doctors for approval.

He is ready to protest. He suspects from the tension in Two’s frame that he is about to also.

It is Three who softly and sadly states that he thinks it would be for the best.

-

While Three is attempting to free the TARDIS, he watches as Two searches the computers for information on where their other self is – they are all certain all five of them were brought here, but they have seen no sign of Four yet.

Two gives a soft cry of triumph when he finds the information. Then pales. He leans forward to see what Two has found.

They look at each other with dark foreboding and Two turns it off.

Three disables the force field, and as the TARDIS arrives, Two has made contact with the Capitol.

Five speaks to them in a flat and halted manner, starkly different to the passionate young man he had met earlier. The reason for his shortness of his communication is clear – he didn’t want them to mention the ring. But this is no explanation for the dramatic change in his mannerisms. (He has heard, from Time Lords who have regenerated that they cannot change the way their personality manifests itself when their bodies change; even if they wished to, it is something they cannot control or resist. It is rumoured that during the process of regeneration, some Time Lords, the ones with the highest levels of mental discipline, can sometimes influence certain physical traits of their new body.)

(He would not know. He has not yet regenerated.)

Five arrives by transmat with President Borusa. As Tegan steps forward to voice her concern for Five, Borusa silences her and freezes all the companions into motionlessness. Then he surveys the other Doctors with bored satisfaction.

“You have served the purpose for which I bought you here.”

(He is outraged. Once again, the Time Lords have picked apart his time stream for their own purpose. He decides very firmly in that moment that he will never forgive them, and he will never, ever come back to Gallifrey again. They will have to drag him back before he does.)

“He’s a renegade, no better than that villain down there!”

The Master is awake now, watching and listening silently, because he is bound and cannot act. He shouts because he is angry and he wants The Master to know it. (The Master is going to kill him, and it hurts so much, but it shouldn’t, because he hasn’t seen his old friend in so long. The Master is going to kill him, and if not for Borusa’s meddling, he wouldn’t have to know this.) 

The three of them face Borusa and challenge his will, but he wears the coronet of Rassilon and his mind is strong. Two calls out to Five to join them. Five is unresponsive, devoid of thought. (It is unnerving to consider.)

“He can’t. Some kind of mind lock. Fight it, my boy, fight it!” Five’s expression stirs slightly and he has hope again. He addresses his other two selves. “Concentrate. We must be one.”

They all focus their minds on Five, calling him back to them from the darkness he is wrapped within.

Five breaks free of Borusa, and as he stands with them, a voice booms in the air.

“This is the Game of Rassilon.”

Borusa approaches the slab where Rassilon’s body sleeps and Five steps forward, but he reaches out and grips the young boy’s shoulder.

“No, wait, my boy. That was the voice of Rassilon. It’s out of our hands now.”

When Rassilon asks Borusa whether he is sure, because there is still time to turn back, he pauses and gives the situation deep thought. (His eyes linger on the Master, who would take immortality if he could. He thinks of power, and those who possess it.)

Borusa names The Doctors as his servants, aiding him in his quest for immortality. Rassilon asks if this is so. There is fierce protest from his other selves.

“Don’t listen to them, Lord Rassilon. President Borusa speaks the truth.”

“You believe that Borusa deserves the immortality he seeks?”

(He thinks of how Borusa has butchered his time streams for his own purpose, the things he knows about his future that he shouldn’t, and not being able to predict the ramifications of this knowledge. He thinks especially of Four and Five, and the suffering he will endure when he is them. And he thinks of The Master, still listening.)

“Indeed, I do!”

Borusa takes the ring, and claims immortality, as he has desired to do. The stone effigies on the side of the slab begin to stir with awareness. Borusa cries out in horror and pain, and he is transferred into a spare slot in the stone. Once he has become a part of it too, the effigies all harden once again, immortalised in stone.

“And what of you, Doctors?” Rassilon asks. “Do you claim immortality too?”

There is a resounding chorus of no.

Rassilon agrees to send them back to their separate time streams. He returns The Master also; all of his selves watch the renegade disappear.

“His sins will find their punishment in due time.” Rassilon says with dark amusement.

Five looks rather miserable at this. Three has tensed up, while Two has slumped. But he does not know what to think.

(“Easy as pi!” becomes “Killing you once” and he does not know what to feel.)

“You have chosen wisely, Doctor.” Rassilon’s presence fades back into obscurity.

“Did you know what would happen?” Five asks him.

“To lose is to win, and he who wins shall lose.” He quotes philosophically. 

They all prepare to depart, his other selves engaging in some light-hearted teasing of each other. He gets their attention with a gentle rebuke, and then inspects Five.

(He remembers departing from Two and Three without saying the words that mattered. He may never know if they knew what he had really meant, and decides not to take that chance this time.)

“You did quite well, quite well. It’s reassuring to know that my future is in safe hands.” Then he is quick to make for the TARDIS, before they can embarrass him with any sentiments. “Come along, Susan.”

-

He does not have long with Susan before the distortion separates them and deposits them back into their own time streams. She laughs and tells him that he was right; they did get to see each other again. He asks her of David, and is pleased to hear how happy she is with the boy. He made the right choice then. He tells her that he will love her always, and she tells him the same. (He does not mention how much he misses her – he wants her memory of this goodbye to be filled with joy alone, and not sadness.)

“Goodbye, Susan, my dear.”

“Goodbye, Grandfather.”

-

Steven finds him sitting on a bench in the garden, not long after he has been returned. He has been thinking, turning over the experience in his mind. Most of the information he retains are things that do not make sense to him – an Australian woman with a brave heart; a young man uncomfortable in his own skin; a grin from the past, clashing with dark eyes from the future; and of course, dear Susan – it does not escape his notice that he has recalled traits of people, and not any of the facts about why the incident took place. He suspects the Time Lords were involved, as they were before.

Something in his manner must convey how old and tired he feels, because Steven does not speak. There is an understanding in his eyes that he sometimes shows when things have grown too silent. (Steven spent many years alone, a prisoner of the mechanoids, and he understands loneliness.)

When he stands, Steven offers him an arm, and he leans on it heavily as they make their way back through the gardens.

It is then that he remembers that Vicki is not with them anymore. She has already left, and he had forgotten that.

(He feels old, so old, and he does not know how much longer he can go on this way.)

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Katarina was the first (and one of the few) companions who died. She was only in a few episodes, but I felt she was important to mention for this reason. The Doctor would angst over every companion lost, especially those who died.
> 
> I love the Ainley Master. My most favourite megalomaniac. I admit I referenced the drumming – I believed that Rassilon was a manipulative little expletive when I first saw him in that episode, and when he came back in the newer series, I wasn’t surprised he was nuts. I won’t explore my stance on what he does to The Master in the tomb until Five’s version though. Sorry.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The Dalek Invasion of Earth; The Chase; The Dalek’s Master Plan; Logopolis; Castrovalva; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	4. The First Regeneration hurts the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Liberties have been taken – less plot and more character driven – due to the tragedy that is the many episodes Lost by the BBC back in the day. *sob* Hindsight is a torturous thing.
> 
> My interpretations of the First Doctor’s companions have been done the way they have for maximum angst – I don’t have anything against the characters themselves.
> 
> -

-4-

In the aftermath of Vicki’s departure and Katarina’s death, he knows that Steven considers on occasion whether it is time for him to leave as well. But Steven is a compassionate young man and cannot bring himself to abandon him to suffer this loneliness and grief alone, and so remains, while struggling with his own bitterness about the death and destruction they have witnessed so much of lately. When Dodo joins them, Steven’s burden eases and continues to keep their company.

(But The Doctor’s sense of melancholy remains with him always.)

He misses Vicki so. She had felt so very alone for so long, and despite this (or perhaps because of it), she had been very quick to trust him when she had met him, Ian and Barbara. (“You haven’t got the sort of face that kills things.”) Her cheerful spirit had remained undaunted by her sorrow and fear, and she had reminded him very much of Susan. But it does lighten his spirit to know that Vicki too has found herself a place and time in which she feels she belongs, and someone to love and love her in return.

He wishes he could give all his companions such joy when they choose to leave him.

(Katarina had been young, far too young, with a lifetime ahead of her. He had been horrified when Kirksen had made his demands and ransomed Katarina’s life, but it was anguish to watch her choose to die, to prevent him from complying. She had been constantly confused about their lifestyle, the concepts of time and space so beyond her grasp; she had believed she was dead and they were all transporting her to her next life. Sometimes he fears that she was so willing to sacrifice herself because she already believed she was dead. Her death was his responsibility, for not complying with the madman’s demands, but perhaps her lack of understanding was also his fault.) 

-

He is proud of Steven’s decision to remain on one planet they travel to as a mediator, a pioneer helping to rebuild a whole new world and society. He knows that Steven has long desired a new life. But he is also saddened. He has enjoyed the young man’s company, and it had been consoling to him to have someone who recognises the pain that isolation brings. His presence will be sorely missed.

He misses all of these young ones who have shared his travels. 

(The ones who chose to leave him do so because they are searching for a new life, or long to return to their old one. He does not fault them for this; in fact sometimes he rather envies them.)

(But he worries that maybe it is also because they grow tired of him – he cannot deny that he is not the best company; he is an irritable old man and often incomprehensible to them. They do not have the knowledge of time that he does, and sometime they cannot understand how he can go from insisting they investigate one moment, to declaring that they cannot interfere with the course of history the next. He knows that inconsistency often frightens young children.)

Sometimes he forgets which of them have left, and speaks about them to himself as though they are still there. When he does remember, he spends long hours standing over the TARDIS console, finding the low hum of the engines therapeutic.

(His body has been betraying him for a long while, but now he is frightened, because he fears his mind is beginning to follow.)

Dodo is very vibrant and self-determined, but he cannot shake the feeling that she is often frustrated by his drifting. His mind begins to wander and he takes to speaking less, so that he does not have to know whether or not he still has his ability to wield words. He takes Dodo to many times and places, but he knows the twentieth century on earth is what she longs for; the comfort of landscapes which are recognisable. (He understands this attraction of familiar things.) He is happy when they do return to her own time. Her excitement is palpable when they arrive back, and her smile brings a peace to his troubled thoughts.

-

He blames the deterioration of his mind – finally acknowledging it at last – when he does not realise at first that something is wrong with Dodo’s own mind. He experiences a brief psychic attack, and though his mind is able to resist, his body requires several moments to recover from the strain. It is in this moment that Dodo gives herself away. He finds the mental strength he needs to free her mind from the thrall of the force which has corrupted her, and he insists that she is given time to recuperate in the countryside, away from all the danger. He puts his faith in young Polly and Ben, to give him the help he needs to prevent the disaster.

When the war machines have been disabled, WOTAN is defeated, and everything settles back down into normalcy, he waits outside the TARDIS for Dodo. He waits. And waits.

Ben and Polly arrive. He is pleased to see them again; he was relieved that he had been able to depend on them during the incident, and was grateful for the opportunity to thank them.

They have come to return Dodo’s key. She has decided to stay in London.

He is not surprised that she wishes to remain behind. He knows that the control of her mind had shaken her. He regrets that he was not able to assist her further with her recovery, given the circumstances.

(He hopes this was the only reason she left. He fears that perhaps she was angry with him, for allowing her to end up in such danger. He fears that she places the blame for her suffering on him. Or maybe she was uncomfortable, always waiting on an old man, whose mind and body were weakening.)

(It hurts his hearts, to think that after all they had been through together, she did not even return to say goodbye. The last clear image of her he will hold in his mind will be of her face, contorted with pain and foreign hatred, as her mind is twisted and squeezed by another force.)

(Did she not wish to see him again? She did not say goodbye.) 

He dismisses Polly and Ben as swiftly as he can, and stumbles back into the TARDIS. (He is alone.) The TARDIS hums softly in an attempt to soothe. He leans heavily against the console and struggles with the emptiness that swells within him. (He is alone.)

Polly and Ben enter the TARDIS after him, to return the key. He looks at their astonished expressions, thinks of how young they both are, and he almost turns them away.

But he doesn’t.

-

Cybermen. There are Cybermen. His head is hurting each time he looks at them and his breath comes short. Their presence stirs remembrance within him of their last encounter.

(“Some very suspicious allies…Time Lords…bring about their destruction…Betrayed? No! I may have misled you a little…easy as pi!”)

His mind is too fragile, his body too old, to deal with the splintering of memories that assault him.

(There are Cybermen, a young woman who is not yet his companion, and a man with a new voice, a new face, but an old grin. A chequered board lies between them.) 

His body cannot take the strain as the memories churn up within him and he collapses.

(The last thing he sees before the darkness takes him is the face of a young blond man, eyes weak and disorientated and filled with lingering fear. “You’re here.”)

-

“Doctor! Doctor!”

He opens his eyes to see Polly’s face. She is frightened, Ben is wounded, and the men around appear to be working on firing a rocket to defeat the Cybermen. It won’t work, he know this. (Cybermen are suspicious allies, their promises to aliens have no validity.) He is confused and he is failing, but he pulls himself together (he tries, he tries so hard) for the sake of his companions.

(There are memories that are not his own, yet, filtering through his mind, lingering echoes from mental contact he made long ago with those who had different faces. Every echo is painful.)

General Cutler is beside himself with anger and fear. He fears for the loss of his son. (Or was it Mrs. Ollis who feared for the loss of her husband? No, no. That is not yet this time.) He fears that Dr. Barclay will be killed. (Dr. Tyler has vanished.) But Polly screams (Jo is screaming) and the General stands down, (The Brigadier, blazing away as usual, “nice to see you again,” “wonderful chaps.”)

Cybermen enter the room. They fire their weapons. Cutler falls.

Does his son still live yet? Will he have to be told? (Susan is running, there is a Dalek following, he cannot let her fall. He cannot make David wait.)

He knows the end is near. He does not try to fight the sharp sensations of memory as they tear through his mind – this would only hasten the damage being caused. He sets his focus on the Cybermen before him (a trap is sprung, lightning strikes them all down but one) and sets his mind on solving this problem. 

He needs to buy time. (Time, it is compressing him, trapped in an infernal time eddy, he cannot act, he can only advice.) He must act!

They take (Susan? No.) Polly hostage, while (Ian? Steven?) Ben and Barclay disable the rocket. The Cybermen are threatening to kill Polly (no, no, not poor Katarina) and he allows them to lead him away. He must trust that the young man (Ben, his name is Ben) will be able to defeat the remaining Cybermen before it is too late.

Mondas, the planet of the Cybermen, flares upon its destruction and turns into a supernova (matter and anti-matter collide and a black hole becomes a supernova). The Cybermen are destroyed when their planet is lost. (He is lost, losing himself at last to the slow destruction taking place within his mind.)

Ben arrives to rescue them both. He needs the TARDIS. (He realises he is dying and he is scared, he wants to be safe, inside the only home that he has left now.) He tells them breathlessly that they must return to the TARDIS at once.

Ben and Polly look at him with fear and concern in their eyes. He can barely hear their questions, but he knows why they are concerned, and the last thing he can do for them is to offer them hope.

“This body of mine is wearing a bit thin. But it is far from being all over.”

(He cannot remember what the other faces will look like; his memory is as blurred as his vision. But he knows that there will be other faces.)

He stumbles away from his frightened companions and touches the TARDIS console one last time, with these hands. The most beautiful thing he has ever seen. The TARDIS was there when he first began his new life, and he is grateful to be here when it ends. The hum of the engines sounds like singing. Or is it weeping?

He falls to the floor. He hears his companions cry out.

(Susan, Ian, Barbara, Vicki, Steven, Katarina, Dodo, Polly, Ben.)

-

(So this is what dying feels like)

-

In the moment before regeneration, his mind is his own again, as it has not been for so long.

-

Regeneration is painful. Every molecule in his body shimmers as it is altered, shifting, morphing, changing, and yet the very core of each atom remains the same. He is being restructured and restored, some aspects of who he is are submerged, and others are being enhanced. The process is slow contained within endless moments of time that are packed into the space of a few breaths. 

-

He opens his eyes again, for the first time.

-

“It is The Doctor. I know it is. I think.” Polly says to Ben.

(Is he? Is that still who he is now? Has he remained that man, to bear that same name?)

Ben is not entirely convinced. (He is not sure that he is either, so he doesn’t bother with answering the young man’s questions about whether he is or isn’t the same man he was.)

He looks at his (new) face in the mirror. His (old) aged face and long silvery hair are gone. His (new) face is young and his hair is dark and short. He is also rather short too, but he doesn’t mind. He studies his eyes for the longest time before he gives a satisfied hum and straightens with a nod.

(His eyes may not be the same in colour or shape, but the soul that shines through is still his own.)

It is a strange feeling, to look at your own face and not recognise it.

(Except, that for a moment, he thinks he does. But it is the wrong way around – he is looking now into a mirror, when before he had been looking at that face with another man’s eyes and seeing it the way it really looks, not just as a reflection. But the moment passes, and he puts the unsettling sensation out of mind.)

The sound of the TARDIS engines in the background are not just a noise he has grown accustomed to, they are the comforts of home. They weave a beautiful melody around him and he presses his new hands against the console with longing and gratitude. 

(The TARDIS recognises him, even if he no longer recognises himself.)

-

He is (almost) relieved that the first trouble that they run into is Daleks. He remembers Daleks, and how evil they can be. He does not have the time to conduct an in depth analysis about his new body and his new personality as they are all thrust headfirst into a perilous situation. He learns about himself as he goes; how he thinks, how he reacts, what are his new quirks and traits – these are the things that he notices as they happen, and he devours them hungrily. He gets to know himself as he companions are also getting to know him.

“Doctor!” Ben calls him suddenly.

Yes, he thinks. Yes, I am.

-

It takes him a while to adjust to this new body. It behaves differently than what he was used to. He often forgets that now he has new strength in his limbs and a higher rate of mobility than he did before, and sometimes he moves too quickly and upsets objects as he passes by them. He had been an old man before after all.

Polly laughs good-naturedly and calls him clumsy. She still reaches for things when he asks for them, as they both forget that he is no longer as absent minded as he was. Clumsy, he thinks. Yes, perhaps clumsy will do. He has noticed the looks of disdain he gets from those who are not his companions when his manner is clumsy, the dismissive light in their eyes as they think him a fool. An underestimated opponent is often the most difficult to defeat. And so, he continues to be clumsy, and most often it is deliberate. 

He is somewhat amused to discover, although he now has strength in his arms, which were previously encumbered by age, they are now slightly shorter than they were; so his reach has remained the same. 

(Perhaps not everything is lost during regeneration, as he had been so often told in his youth by disapproving teachers and adults who wished to frighten him into submission.)

When he tries to explain the curiosity of this persistent characteristic to Ben, he begins to laugh at how absurd the situation is, and his hysterical laughter sets poor Ben off as well. Polly just stares at them and shakes her head.

-

The young man’s name is Jamie, and his eyes hold a bright fire. He finds Jamie’s intensity and fierce spirit fascinating. The highlander is not afraid to fight for himself and those he cares for and his mind is quick to adapt; if he does not understand something, he categorises it the best way he can so that he is able to react immediately if he needs to. He may be from an earlier time in earth’s history than Ben and Polly come from, but that doesn’t mean he is unintelligent. In fact, he believes that Jamie has great potential and an incredible capacity to learn.

He finds Jamie, gazing up at the stars as their small party waits for the dawn. He settles beside him. Jamie is slowly fingering the hilt of the small knife tucked into his boot. They sit in a comfortable silence for some time, before Jamie finally speaks.

“The lass, Polly. She says that we should nae be fighting.” 

He hums non-committedly. Jamie glances at him sideways.

“I’m a fighter. I may be a piper, but us McCrimmon’s we’re also fighters too, so our Laird says. What do ye think?”

He looks up at the stars, like Jamie had been doing before. “I think,” he says seriously. “There are some corners of the universe which have bred the most terrible things. Things which act against everything that we believe in. They must be fought.” Then he smiles at Jamie and shrugs. “I may be a Doctor, but there are things, and people, that I will fight for if I have to. You just try and make sure not to lose yourself along the way.” He offers Jamie a grin, to lighten the tension of this moment. “Just because you are being a fighter now, doesn’t mean you have to stop being a piper. Who ever said you couldn’t be both?”

Jamie considers this, and then smiles back. “Aye. I can be both of those things.”

(And I can be both of those Doctors, he thinks. I can be this new man without giving the other man I used to be up completely.)

-

Jamie stands before them, as they stand by the TARDIS, and ponders time and the stars that would be opened up before him.

“I’m just a piper,” is murmured absently.

“And I’m just a Doctor.” A pause. “Did I mention that I can play a pretty fair tune on the recorder myself?”

Jamie’s answering grin makes his hearts nearly burst with emotion and he beams as Jamie nudges his way eagerly passed Ben and Polly to get into the TARDIS. Ben and Polly smile back at him.

-

He has known that Ben and Polly have wanted to return to their own time. So when they arrive back on earth on the very day they left, he anticipates their departure. Ben is a sailor, and his heart belongs to the sea, not the stars. And Polly has her own life to return to, one that she enjoys immensely. It doesn’t hurt her resolve that she has grown highly attached to Ben either. He bids them both a fond farewell. He doesn’t think he showed his sadness, but once they are back in the TARDIS Jamie nudges him playfully with his elbow, and smiles.

“It won’t be so quiet in here, just because they’ve gone. You still have me around, you know.”

He smiles happily and nudges Jamie back. “Yes, Jamie. I do.”

-

When her father is killed, he knows he cannot leave Victoria alone, surrounded by ghosts and shadows of her old life. He shares a look of understanding with Jamie, and they offer her the chance to come along with them.

She agrees, because she has grown to care for them, but also because she has nowhere else to go.

He knows that she often thinks of her father, and he worries about her sadness. (He does not want the memory of her grief to consume her.) 

“The memory of him won’t always be a sad one,” he tells her gently.

“I think it will. You can’t understand, being so ancient.”

(This hurts him, but he remains gentle with her. Will his age diminish his sadness? Or will he carry it with him for all of time?)

“You probably can’t remember your family.” She says, almost to herself. 

“Oh yes I can when I want to. And that’s the point really. I have to really want to, to bring them back in front of my eyes. The rest of the time, they sleep in my mind, and I forget. And so will you. Oh yes, you will.”

(This is what he has always done with his grief. Otherwise, the void of emptiness and loss will devour him.)

-

He has never had much time for soldiers. Too many guns, and they always seem to follow orders blindly and never take time to listen.

But this is not the first thing he thinks when he meets the man called Lethbridge-Stewart.

(Brigadier)

The word almost leaves his lips, but he is so confused over why he has thought of it, that he catches it before it does.

(Something about this man and UNIT tickle his memories. It gives him a distracted air during their entire interaction. No one else notices, except Jamie, who stays close to him, watching him with concern.)

Lethbridge-Stewart is a Colonel. 

He doesn’t like to call the man Colonel. He cannot help it, but every time he says Colonel, there is an inflection to it that implies he cannot reconcile the title with the man. Lethbridge-Stewart seems to take this as a sign of disrespect, and is quite irked by it. 

(He cannot feel comfortable calling this man ‘Colonel’ because that is not the title that belongs to him.)

They end up on terms of mutual (and somewhat grudging, in The Man-Who-Will-Become-The-Brigadier’s case) respect.

“I think that you will go places.” He tells the man wryly.

“Yes, well. Thank you. It’s been an interesting experience, Doctor, though not one I care to repeat. Do try to stay out of trouble.”

He finds this hilarious for reasons he cannot remember, and laughs as he shakes the man’s hand.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The Rescue; The Myth Makers; The Dalek’s Master Plan; The Massacre; The Savages; The War Machines; The Tenth Planet; The Power of the Daleks; The Highlander; The Moonbase; The Faceless Ones; Tomb of the Cybermen; The Web of Fear; The Three Doctors; The Five Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	5. The Three Doctors (Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today, because I’m overloading on Who Feels.
> 
> Patrick Troughton is one of my favourites! I think that the reason I have been so cruel to him in this story is because I love him so much. *Hugs for the Second Doctor.
> 
> I have strategically placed this story where I have in the timeline for reasons I explain in the end notes.

-5-

“Well this is a familiar scene.” He says in mild exasperation when the Time Lords tear him from his own Time to announce they are sending him to help himself.

He speaks without thought, and sees the way that the two Time Lords respond to this statement; one with horror, the other considering him thoughtfully. When they start to brief him on the situation, he realises that this is the first time that they have taken him.

(They will also retrieve his earlier self soon because he has just foolishly revealed that they did send him. He has just put the idea in their heads in the first place. It happened because he told them it happened. But clearly, they had already decided to break the first law without his input, because he is already here.)

He realises that they are very worried about being under siege, and he understands why they have decided to do this without first consulting him. But he doesn’t forgive them.

-

He is momentarily disorientated when he crosses into the time stream of his own future. He tries to readjust his time sense, and realises several things in quick succession. Something is wrong with the TARDIS; it doesn’t seem to be functioning, and the temporal energy in the matrix is limp, as if the TARDIS has remained in the same time/space for an extended period. (Why would this happen?) There is a soldier; he doesn’t like soldiers, they carry too many guns, but now there is one standing in the presence of his future self with casual familiarity. (Why? Will he be keeping the company of soldiers in his future? What prompted this circumstance?) And there is a female companion standing by his future self, but there is no sign of Jamie.

(He experiences a moment of near panic – where is Jamie? Why isn’t Jamie here? Jamie misses his home, yes, but he has made it quite clear that he will never leave the Doctor. And The Doctor could never send Jamie away. Regeneration would not change how he feels about his friend – he is still The Doctor, whether he be Two or Three. So maybe something terrible happens to Jamie.)

(NO!)

He has composed himself a moment later. He surveys his future self, Three, critically. He is going to become this man one day? Mr Fancy Pants, left with a broken TARDIS, surrounded by soldiers, without Jamie? He addresses the issue of the TARDIS first, making an underhanded slight about the changes that have been done to the time machine. “I don’t like it,” he states definitively.

(The unspoken “or you” is understood by both of them)

Then he turns his attention to the soldier, and is pleasantly surprised. “Corporal Benton, isn’t it?” Benton grins; a sergeant now. And where Benton is, Lethbridge-Stewart is bound to be nearby, guns blazing and ready for action. (He does not mind soldiers, if they are people he likes.)

Words leave his mouth about not seeing Benton since “that nasty business with the Cybermen,” and he catches his breath in shock. Where did that knowledge come from? When he was with UNIT, they fought Yeti, not Cybermen. And yet he knows the words he spoke were truth.

Three seems very intent on making it clear to young Jo that Two is one of Three. This is a preposterous notion. Quite clearly, Three is one of Two! Even though she is a bit bewildered by the situation, Jo seems to be a very nice girl.

(He does not raise the question of Jamie. He is too frightened of the answer.)

Three grows impatient with him very quickly, irritated by his presence. His future self appears to be a very driven scientist, and craves further information to complete the picture he is forming. They hold a quick mental conference to determine where they currently stand.

It is after this brief interaction that he realises something. He has been here before – he should know how this plays out, what he needs to do, and how it all ends. But he doesn’t; he tries hard to remember, but if the memories are there in his mind they are out of focus and intangible. He doesn’t know, he can’t remember, and it makes him frustrated.

(When he was One during this emergency, he knew what to say, and he worked out what needed to be done. He is sure of this at least. Now, he is trailing in the wake of his own genius, and there is nothing he can do about it.) 

He plays a small tune on his recorder as he tries to think. He is hurt more than he thought he would be when Three criticizes him for doing this. Three doesn’t like his music! He begins to argue with the taller man, lashing out with words furiously.

(He hides his sadness and despair. Three doesn’t like his music. Is there anything left of this aspect of him when he becomes the man before him?)

As they are bickering, One arrives. He is embarrassed at being caught when he sees the disapproving frown. He is not sure how much of the disappointment he detects is what he is inferring from his past self’s mannerisms, or whether it has come from his memory, as unreliable as it seems to be at the moment. But his memory was correct about something – One is ahead of both of them in terms of what needs to be done.

He pulls out a coin and tells Three to call. He peeks at the coin, even though the result is irrelevant. “Hard luck.” He vaguely remembers being One, speaking to Two, and Three had already gone.

-

He is now able to call this man “The Brigadier” and for some reason, this comforts him.

The Brigadier hasn’t changed much since he last saw him, despite the fact that it was longer ago for the Brigadier than it was for him. This is perhaps a comforting thought. It is nice to think that there will be some people who will continue to behave in the same manner around him, even after regeneration. He remembers how uneasy Ben and Polly had been. The Brigadier, believing he has simply changed his face back again, comments that there was some trouble with autons when The Brigadier first met Three, and he makes a note of this. Then he is distracted by a declaration about him by The Brigadier.

“As long as he does the job he can wear what face he likes.”

He feels a rush of fond affection for the man. 

He will always be The Doctor, no matter what face he wears.

-

The Brigadier is not pleased with his explanation about the impossibility of the organism that is attacking them. His own words “cleverer than we are” ring in his mind and he throws himself into the task at hand to avoid lingering on them.

(He is sandwiched between the wisdom of One and the intelligence of Three, and he feels like very much like the bumbling fool that he often appears as to others.)

-

Things have gone wrong and they are hiding out in the TARDIS. He cannot believe he has made such a basic mistake, and humiliation and anxiety burn at him. He needs to take a moment to think, and searches for his recorder. The Brigadier raises his voice angrily. He feels something within him snap.

(He cannot help UNIT, or his other selves, he cannot even help himself. His mind is being torn between flashes of what he thinks he remembers, and he hates not knowing which of his thoughts he can trust. He is drowning in uncertainty and confusion. He should be stronger than this.)

“It’s my fault and I’m sorry!” He shouts in frustration.

(Everything is always his fault.)

-

He is relieved when his past self tells him what to do. It helps him find his focus again, and the thought that his other self has faith in him gives him faith in himself.

“I’ve always had a great respect for his advice.”

-

He knows his recorder is somewhere in the TARDIS, and he has to find it. He knows it is important that he does, but he cannot remember why.

-

He is not properly astonished by Omega when he meets him, and he thinks this is probably because a part of him remembered that he was going to. He has given up trying to sort through the tangle of his not-quite-memories for now.

When they are imprisoned, he and his future self are both so infuriated that they begin to argue with each other. It takes a pointed intervention from Jo and Benton to shame them into silence and he is offered an awkward apology.

“Yes, well, I’m sorry too.”

When his companions ask how they are going to defeat Omega, he is honest. “We’re not sure that we can.”

(He cannot remember if they did. He doubts his memory, and he doubts himself.)

Jo’s faith in him does not waver. Together, he and Three will up a door, and he is ecstatic. “I couldn’t possibly have done it without you!”

(If he cannot trust himself, he will place his trust in his other self.)

-

Omega’s will is strong and Three is faltering. He cannot stand here and watch himself – his other self – die.

“No Omega!”

He plays his part of the bumbling fool once more, but this time he does not feel like one. Something about Omega and his recorder stirs his memory and he is filled with a firm conviction.

(He ignores the insult of “he’s incorrigibly frivolous” that comes from Three. This time, he does know what he is doing.)

Omega rants about the destruction of all things simply because that is his will. He reflects that this is the reason why he never wanted power. The proverb about it corrupting absolutely doesn’t just apply to humans.

-

He MUST find his recorder. This is the only thing he can focus on when all of them are once again hiding in the TARDIS. Several of the others are exasperated by his insistence but he ignores them.

Just as the situation is beginning to grow dire, One breaks through again and a telepathic connection is made between all three of them. He feels much better coming out of it – it is as though the agony of his fractured memory has been eased by the presence of his other selves. He does not know if they are aware of what he had been feeling before, or if their help was intentional, but he is still grateful.

(When he had thought of Cybermen in confusion earlier, his comment when he first saw Benton was heard by Three at the time, and now has been passed along subconsciously to One. The words came naturally, because he knew that he had said them.)

“Found it! My recorder! Right in the corner of the force field!”

And suddenly, as Three’s eyes light up, he finally remembers why finding his recorder was so important.

-

Omega is trapped in this place, unable to ever leave it, and the demand is simple.

“Share my exile.”

(He is already suffering a self-imposed exile.)

He will not deny that he is touched when The Brigadier, the warrior and commander, trusts them enough that he follows their orders without question. But it is the salute that moves him most. It is not just a goodbye; it is comradeship, friendship and respect.

(He will never be able to have anyone salute him again without thinking of The Brigadier in this moment.) 

-

When the crisis is over, everyone is safe, and as One departs, he cannot help but feel proud of himself. (All of his selves.)

He says goodbye to the others, because they will most likely never see him again, but it is not really goodbye for him – he’ll have to do this once again.

-

When he gets back to his own time stream, he makes sure the first thing he does is the Important thing that he has been needing to do.

“Jamie!”

He pulls the highlander into a firm hug, born of desperation and relief. Jamie laughs and squirms, but does not pull away, patting his shoulder good naturedly. 

Jamie asks where he has been, and he answers as much as he can. He has remembered more this time than before, but it is still hard to articulate the experience. His memories of the details are still disjointed, and his head aches when he tries to concentrate on them. Jamie’s smile vanishes and the grip on his shoulder tightens.

(He does not mention that Jo is a companion; she is a member of UNIT. But he keeps Jamie close and within his sight for as long as it takes for his fears to lessen. Jamie does not question the hug or his behaviour.)

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt it was important for the structure of my story to set The Three Doctors before the Two Doctors, when he meets Six. This of course means that T3D takes places before Victoria has left as a companion, because Jamie and The Doctor mention her at the beginning of T2D. This means that T3D takes places before The Invasion, with The Brigadier and the Cybermen. I took the liberty of making Two’s comment to Benton about the Cybermen to be an echo of memory he picked up from his other selves during the mental conference the Doctors have. 
> 
> This is probably the only place I have been deliberately flexible with establishing the order of canon events. But I think it is easy to justify anything in Who – Time travel complicates things after all. 
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The Web of Fear; The Invasion; The Three Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	6. The Two Doctors (Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The 50th Anniversary gave me so many Classic Who feels. But when they showed the picture of the Brigadier, I had to go watch my favourite episodes of his. *sniff.* 
> 
> Thankfully, this in turn gave me some Jamie feels, so I felt properly motivated to finish this chapter.

-6-

He is very suspicious when the TARDIS is suddenly pliant under his direction, especially when the pitch of the engines becomes a miserable whine rather than the traditional sweet hum that it usually sings.

So, he is somewhat relieved when Victoria is so interested in learning about graphology, that she does not protest or question when he suggests that she remains a while, while he and Jamie make themselves idle. He promises that they will be back by the evening.

As he prepares the TARDIS for take-off, he glances across at Jamie, suggestions hovering on the tip of his tongue.

Jamie gives him a very unimpressed look. “I’m staying with you.” His tone is non-negotiable.

(It comforts him, warms his hearts, to know how well Jamie understands him. Jamie knows there is trouble ahead, and he is determined to stick by him. He reckons he’ll be all right, as long as Jamie is with him. He knows he can always rely on Jamie.)

It does not take long for the teleport control to appear on the TARDIS console. His indignation simmers steadily as he finds the new data uploaded to his screens; he knows obscure instructions when he sees them. He is unsurprised when steering the TARDIS to the space station where his old friend Dastari works is extremely easy.

He vents briefly to Jamie, angry at the Time Lords for interfering in his affairs again. Jamie distracts him from his anger (frustration, misery, despair,) with some friendly banter, as he usually does. His mood improves almost immediately. Jamie has a knack for being able to make him smile.

As they land, he decides at the last moment to take the recall disc with him. (He does not trust the Time Lords at all, especially after their last encounter.)

They exit the TARDIS, to find themselves in a crude kitchen, and face to face with an Androgum, who declares himself to be Shockeye of the Quancing Grig. Shockeye shows an instant interest in Jamie, and he has to restrain the sudden urge to shove his companion back into the safety of the TARDIS, and away from this disturbing threat. He brandishes words at the Androgum, followed by a vegetable, and hastily spirits Jamie away. Jamie does not ask questions about the incident in the way that Victoria would have done – Jamie is a fighter and a highlander; he understands the expressions of a hunter stalking prey. Still, to err on the side of caution, he mentions the Androgum hunger for the flesh of other creatures. It would be wise to have Jamie on his guard around them.

He will ensure that he keeps Jamie safe from that Androgum.

-

Dastari seems to have been expecting the arrival of an emissary from the Time Lords, though his expression when they meet is strange, almost like disappointment, but it vanishes before he can puzzle it out. Dastari expresses his surprise that the Time Lords had chosen to send him.

“It’s the price I pay for my freedom.” He says lightly, without a trace of the bitterness he feels. “I’m a pariah, exiled from Time Lord society, so they can always deny sending me.”

(They are content to ignore him, except when they want to meddle in his affairs. And he is forced to dance to their tunes if he wants to keep his freedom. It is all too simple for them to snatch him out of time whenever they wish, so he must appease them whenever he can. This, however, is not the reason that he decided to visit Dastari. He had read the data on the experiments being performed here, and he had to admit that perhaps the worries the Time Lords were valid.)

He raises the subject of Kartz and Reimer and the time experiments they have been conducting, and Dastari is instantly defensive. He does not bother to hide his anger with the Time Lords stance. “Typical hypocrisy,” he snaps.

(He does not say that he agrees with this opinion.)

The discussion is interrupted by the arrival of a woman who displays a detached level of high refinement, called Chessene, and Dastari is instantly imbued with an inflated sense of self-importance. He does not have to wait long for Dastari to tell him about the woman, and what she represents.

His horror upon realising what she was leaves him speechless for several long moments. He hears the word “Androgum” leave his lips, and he feels Jamie take a step forward behind him, preparing to come to his defence if necessary.

Dastari waxes lyrical about scientific progress and he knows he is not imagining the obsessive self-gratification he can hear in the man’s tone. Dastari had been a great man of science once. He does not want to believe the man had been so corrupted by his own success that he has begun to experiment simply for the sake of progress itself, and ignore all the ethical boundaries that he had once revered.

“You can’t change nature!”

(He does not think of a young woman that he used to know, a brilliant scientist with a penchant for biological augmentations. He does not want to compare Dastari’s actions to The Rani’s, because if he does, he will have to worry that the man is even further gone than he currently fears.)

He takes comfort in the way Jamie stands silently supportive behind him.

-

He had forced himself to put the augmented Androgum out of his mind, and turn his focus back onto the time experiments that Dastari was sanctioning. Dastari will not give him any leeway, refusing to back down from his belief that they have control of the situation.

He tries to make Dastari see reason, to make him understand the wider implications they could have upon the time streams. “Our monitors have detected ripples of up to point four on the Bocca scale.”

Dastari is unimpressed by his declaration. 

(He feels frustration coil within him – he wishes that he could make these third zoners understand! No one can see Time in the way he can, as a Time Lord. They do not understand the flexibility and the fragility of timelines. And since he had arrived at the space station, he could feel the strange currents that were flowing across this point in time. Something about this situation was disturbing the balance of the time streams that converged here, and he assumed it was probably a side effect of the experiments that were being conducted.)

Dastari is quick to retaliate to his concerns by pointing out that the Time Lords want to keep their secrets, and would simply be threatened by anyone else who gained an intimate knowledge of time travel. He is so distracted at this point (ignoring his own doubts, and being thoroughly irritated by the Time Lords in general) that he answers without thought.

“If Kartz and Reimer really are on safe lines, I’m sure they’ll be allowed to continue.”

“Allowed to continue?” Dastari repeats, his tone dangerous.

“I mean that there would be no further objections.”

Dastari is offended by this front to his superiority, and begins a tirade about ethics. Ethics! He is outraged that this man feels he can be lectured on ethics, when he has already disregarded them in his own work. He promptly hurls back a long string of insults, and only stops when he catches Jamie’s amusement and rounds on him.

Jamie smiles wryly. “I’m just admiring your diplomatic skills.” And just like that, all his fury drains away. He can always count on Jamie’s humour to pull him back from the brink of his own rage.

But as he turns back to Dastari, he realises that this situation may have already spiralled out of control. Dastari has succumbed to drugs in his system, and then there is the sound of gunfire. He cannot leave Dastari here to be captured; questionable ethics aside, the man is still a genius and his knowledge could be dangerous in enemy hands. 

(He and an old friend had been forced to make that choice about The Rani once. The fallout had been an atrocity; he does not want to repeat that.) 

“Run!” He shouts at Jamie, and Jamie thankfully obeys. There is no time for him to do anything else as a weapon is levelled at him.

-

There is an unfortunate and unforeseeable side effect in the moment they drug him with siralanomode. The drug is designed to affect the memory – and so he cannot remember who it is that is responsible as his consciousness begins to fade out. But this is not the problem.

They had not considered that the time ripples that were present within the space station would have an additional effect on him in conjunction with the drug. And even if they had known, perhaps they had assumed that as a Time Lord his mind would be able to compensate.

But he is a Time Lord with a significant difference to any other. He has broken the most important Rule of Time. 

As the drug screams its way through his system, his fractured and dormant memories of his interactions with his other selves suddenly implode with vibrancy and clarity. The shock of the memories sends his mind reeling. His already compromised mental barriers falter, and the time ripples squeeze him painfully. The last time he had felt such agony, he had been dying.

He shrieks in anguish, and throws his mind out in desperation, searching for someone familiar as he soundlessly pleads for help. The time ripples carry his call across time rather than space. His mind fleetingly brushes against another self, and this additional disturbance is too much for him. 

He collapses into oblivion.

-

He wakes slowly, befuddled, his mind aching. He feels as though someone important has been calling him.

“Jamie…”

-

When he manages to drag himself into proper consciousness again, he sees Dastari and is momentarily relieved, because he thinks he is safe and about to be released. But then he remembers, and he cannot even feel properly angry about the realisation yet, still weighed down by the siralanomode. He tries to stitch his memories back together to work out why he is here, but the progress is slow as it is hampered by the pain that spikes whenever he thinks of what happened when he was drugged.

(He spares a moment to pity whatever effect it had on the future self he thinks he may have reached.)

He is given back complete focus when he sees the Sontarans, his memories all jarring violently back into place – Sontarans; the space station; Jamie.

Where is Jamie? What have they done to him?

Chessene was cold and indifferent, her tone callous as she responded.

“Your companion will be long since dead.”

“No!”

(The memory is acutely sharp in his mind – his taller self, surrounded by soldiers, in company of young Jo – without Jamie. He panics.)

No, no, no, no, no. 

Jamie.

-

When he has reigned in his panic, and his grief, he immediately begins a debate with Dastari about his guesswork involving the symbiotic nature of time travel. (He is grateful that the TARDIS is hidden away and safe from Dastari’s grasp.) Dastari is consumed by the desire to dissect the nature of time travel.

He jests sarcastically to hide his anger. “What are you going to do? Cut me up piece by piece?”

“Let us say cell by cell, and gene by gene.”

He is horrified. “When did you go mad Dastari?”

Dastari’s response about merely wanting to give his creation, the augmented Androgum, the power of time travel, does nothing to allay his dread. And then Dastari continues to make a mockery of whatever regard he had once held for him, as he expresses his regret that the Time Lords chose to send him. It doesn’t change the fact that Dastari is going to destroy him.

He finds his anger again, and as Dastari leaves he begins to shout. (He tries very hard not to think about other old friends who have betrayed him, hurt him, and tried to kill him.) He keeps shouting at the empty room, trying to use his anger to hold back his despair.

-

He tries another tactic when Commander Stike appears again. He calls him a nurse – an extreme insult amongst Sontarans – in an attempt to get his attention, and it works. He prompts discussion about war and battle.

Stike takes a moment to reflect on, as he calls it, “the loneliness of supreme responsibility.”

He refuses to allow himself to sympathise with this Sontaran. Instead, he pokes fun and mocks Stike, and then takes great care to point out how treacherous the Androgum nature is. The Commander, angered by his insolence, strikes him.

He quickly challenges Stike to a dual, insulting his honour and calling him a coward, but while Strike clearly struggles with the urge to tear him apart limb by limb, he leaves and does not release him.

(Perhaps the situation really was hopeless.)

-

Dastari and Chessene do not take long to return, and he struggles fruitlessly against his restraints as they begin their preparations. Dastari raises the first of the implements, apologising that he will be conscious during the operation. He jerks back as best he can as he shouts, terrified, but it doesn’t do any good.

(Where was his other self? He was sure he had reached another self – had his other self abandoned him? Did his other selves hate him so much, they were going to leave him to suffer?)

He begins to black out – but it is not true unconsciousness, because there is no escaping the pain. It is merely a paralysis of all his motor skills, and he tries desperately to fight it off. He can feel Dastari moving another implement towards him and he discovers he cannot scream.

But then, for some reason, they all halt the proceedings, and he gets the impression that someone has arrived.

(Perhaps he has not been abandoned after all.)

-

Tied to a wheelchair in a vacant room, he has managed to shake back the paralysis that they had infected him with, and is now trying to formulate a plan of escape. He struggles to manipulate his restraints, but they will not give.

Movement makes him raise his head in time to see a strangely dressed man race pass the door. And then, in his wake – 

“Jamie!”

Jamie dashes to his side, and it is all he can do not to cry in relief. Jamie is alive. He is ALIVE.

His eyes move from Jamie to the colourfully dressed man he is keeping company with. They examine each other carefully. He is sure he has not seen this one’s face before. But there is no mistaking those eyes, even if they are older.

“Snap.” They say together.

“I’ve come a long way for you.” His other self says, with an air that implies the whole mess is a great bother.

“Naturally,” he replies just as airily, as if there had never been any doubt. “Don’t expect any thanks.”

(His other self came when he called out for help. He has never been so thankful for himself before in his life.)

As his other self and Jamie move to free him, they hear someone approaching, and they instead roll him out of the room into the hall. When it is clear they do not have time to affect an escape, he feigns unconsciousness and Jamie and his other self flee upstairs to hide, as Dastari and Chessene move towards him.

Peering through his eyelashes, he sees Shockeye enter carrying an unfamiliar young woman over his shoulder, with a triumphant declaration of “supper.” He knows that Jamie and his other self will save her from such a fate, and so he does not have time to be horrified on her behalf, because Chessene is now telling Dastari about her contingency plan. She wants to turn him into her consort; augment him into an Androgum by blood and instinct, while retaining his knowledge of Time.

He is disgusted by this notion. Surely Dastari would never – 

Dastari is AGREEING with her plan?!?!

-

They take him back down into the cellar. He shouts and raves at them. He does not understand how Dastari can be so willingly blind to what Chessene is. He is so enamoured by what he thinks he has created, that he refuses to acknowledge that her Androgum urges are still very much present within her; a powerful lust for flesh and blood that cannot be abated.

Shockeye has followed them, and Chessene turns on him, rendering him unconscious, so they can take his genetic material for the first of the two operations they wish to perform.

(At least he can take comfort in the knowledge that the young woman will be safe.)

He protests with each breath he has, as they restrain him once more, trying to make Dastari see what he is doing: forcibly altering another’s biology without consent. Dastari’s expression is pinched and tight, and he does not meet his eyes.

(If he loses everything of what he is now, at least he can be certain that his other self will keep Jamie safe.)

Chessene’s final parting comment to him, before he is forced into unconsciousness yet again, is that at least this operation will be swift, even if it may be slightly unstable to begin with.

-

He is hungry as he wakes. 

He speaks to this blood brother before him (he bears the name of Shockeye, he thinks) – tells him of the flesh that is sampled on this world.

“You know the cuisine of this planet?”

“Of course I do.” As he continues to speak, Shockeye releases him. There is a moment of confusion deep within him. “Why am I thinking of food?”

(He is not an Androgum!) 

(He is being consumed by his new nature as it spreads itself through his veins. There is a part of his mind – a small and helpless sense that has still remained intact – which cries out. He must try to resist the contamination, not only for his sake, but for the sake of all his other selves.)

(He tries so hard for all their sakes. But it is so difficult.)

He is so very hungry.

-

He leaves with his blood brother, knowing there is food in the town. He stops a passing vehicle, and Shockeye incapacitates the driver. He does not give it a second thought, too consumed by his hunger and eager to feast.

(Later, when his mind is his own again, he spends long hours grieving over this casual disregard for life, and fears that it may not have only stemmed from the Androgum genes that had been lurking in him. How well does he know himself?)

-

They find a restaurant quickly, and he tries desperately to sate his hunger, consuming as much food as he can. Lobster, clams, squid, brains in white sauce, pigs, ham, steaks, paella, and pigeon. He devours it all with relish, savouring the taste of each fleshy creature.

As he finishes the meal, his hunger has diminished, but he does not think it is because of the quantity he ate. There is a sharpening of focus and softening of emotions that turns over within him.

(The transfusion is failing without the second operation to stabilise the augmentation, he thinks absently.)

He looks down at the carnage that remains on his plate and recalls what he has been eating. He feels ill. (He does not know whether the sickening ache is more prominent in his stomach or his mind. He passes out before he can decide.)

-

He is awoken by unfamiliar (and yet familiar) hands pulling him up, supporting him as he staggers to his feet. Before he can feel thankful, the man – his other self! – starts shouting loudly in a brash manner and hauls him bodily from the restaurant onto the streets outside. 

Maybe he should have been wary after his previous interactions with Three, but in his own defence, he had only just recovered his own mind (and his thoughts were full of anger, hurt, guilt and pain), so it isn’t really his fault for lashing out like a mere child and begin to bicker with this other version of himself. Really, it’s his other self that should know better.

Jamie stands beside them both, looking torn. He also looks like he wants to cuff them both over the head in fond exasperation. It is the young woman who shouts at them both to stop, rolling her eyes and turning to lead the way. But then they are all fronted by Dastari and Chessene again. With their arms raised, they are marched back down one of the side streets.

He turns his head to look at his other self. “So, which one are you?” He asks conversationally. “You never had a chance to say.”

“Number Six.” He replies. “And clearly a great improvement, I must say.”

(Wonderful, he thinks. Are all of his future selves going to be so insufferable? He’ll never be able to look into a mirror again.)

“At least I’m not colour blind,” he retorts mischievously, sticking his nose in the air and quite purposely avoids looking at the extravagantly patterned waistcoat Six is wearing.

“You should see his jacket,” the young woman deadpans.

“Peri!” Six whines in protest, one eye on Chessene, who is stalking behind them all, weapon still raised. She is clearly infuriated by their small talk. “There is nothing wrong with my fashion sense. And if you’re going to complain about acquired taste, why don’t you ask him to play you a tune on his recorder?”

“There’s nothing wrong with my musical ability!” He cries with great dramatic indignation, watching the way Dastari is frowning in confusion from the corner of his eye. “You’re just jealous because you’re obviously lacking.” (Unlike a previous insult from another self, he does not take Six’s comment seriously. He knows that Six is not being cruel, nor does he mean what he has said; they are both testing the reactions of their captors.)

“That’s ridiculous.” 

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Aye,” Jamie laughs, shaking his head. “Aye, you’re both ridiculous. My Doctors. I like your music, and the jacket wasn’t so terrible.”

(Warmth fills him, and he thinks that Six feels the same.)

“Jamie,” Peri all but groans. “You’ll encourage him.”

“See!” Six crows. “Jamie knows.”

“Be silent!” Chessene shrieks. She glares hatefully at Six, and he wonders where this sudden hatred springs from. Is it distaste for his impetuous manners and overbearing arrogance, that offends her augmented nature; or is it the primal bloodlust that prompts her desire to remove this challenge to her authority, as is a common trait amongst Androgums.

“Oh, if I must.” Six huffs.

He sees Dastari’s frown deepen as Chessene growls at Six.

-

The journey back to the manor is uneventful, mainly because Chessene has her weapon pressed threateningly against Jamie’s side for the majority of the time. Jamie ignores it, spending most of his time bantering gently with Six. Six responds in turn, clearly enjoying his time with Jamie, despite the circumstances. (To see Jamie and his other self interacting so effortlessly is surprisingly comforting, and he is filled with inexplicable fondness for both of them.)

He turns his attention to Peri, (Six’s companion, his future companion), making her smile to take her mind from her fears. He is pleasantly surprised when she casually calls him “Doctor,” without any confusion or doubt, even though they had not been formally introduced. He supposes that Six and Jamie probably explained things to her before they arrived to rescue him.

(Dastari has looked disturbed since Jamie first addressed Six as “Doctor” – he does not have the knowledge of the First Rule of Time, but he knows enough about Time Lords and Time Travel to know that this should not be happening. He can almost see the doubts being written plainly across Dastari’s face – that perhaps he was right when he spoke of the dangers of the experiments, and that he was right when he accused Dastari of not understanding the forces he was meddling with.)

(Dastari has also been keeping one eye on Chessene, and Chessene has been keeping both of hers on Six, and Jamie.)

They are all led back down into the cellar. He vows never to enter another cellar again while his is still Two. Dreadful places.

Six tells Chessene that he removed the primed briode nebuliser from her Time Module, and Chessene is quick to threaten Peri in retaliation, using her to test the time machine. Once Peri is removed from the machine, unharmed, Chessene then demands that Dastari chains them all up. He catches Six’s eye. At least this will buy them all some time.

As he is being bound, Shockeye is complaining to Chessene that he still desires to cook a human beast. Goodness gracious, how can he still be hungry after everything he – they – ate in the town?

Chessene’s smile is full of dark vengeance. “Take the one in the skirt. He is the youngest of the jacks.”

(He is sure that his hearts stop. He knows the horror in his eyes is also reflected in Six’s. He knows this is why she chooses Jamie – she wishes to strike them both where it will hurt most.)

“Jamie!” and “No!” are shouted in anguish as the highlander is dragged away by the more powerful Androgum. Chessene follows Shockeye out. Dastari stands before them for a moment longer, dangling the keys as he gives them both an inscrutable look and drops the keys onto the table, and leaves without a backward glance.

He offers encouragement to both Peri and Six as they manage to manoeuvre around the wheelchair to assist them in securing the keys from the table. Six manages to free himself, and starts on his restraints when they hear Jamie’s scream cut through the air. Six startles with panic and almost takes off before he can remind the man to leave them the keys. He manages to unfasten his own manacles and moves to free Peri. 

As they stand and move towards the stairs to follow Six, to help Jamie, Dastari returns with his weapon pointed towards them. He makes sure he is closer to Dastari than Peri is, in case the man tries to shoot. He sees Dastari track this movement. The man sighs and lowers his weapon.

(He is spontaneously filled with hope – perhaps there is hope for other scientists who have been corrupted by their own power.)

-

When Chessene finds them, she is already enraged. When Dastari tells her that there has been enough killing, she turns on him immediately, firing her own weapon and striking down the man who made her into what she was now.

(He is filled with deep sadness as he looks as Dastari’s lifeless body.)

Chessene, mad with bloodlust, turns her weapon on him next, but as she makes to fire, Jamie steps out of the shadows and hurls the knife he has with great accuracy, striking the weapon and causing the blast to deflect.

(He is so proud of Jamie in this moment he thinks his chest will burst. Jamie could have killed her, but chose to disarm her instead.)

Chessene gets into the Time Module in an attempt to escape, but the briode nebuliser was only primed for one trip – to protect Peri – and it does not function now. The machine explodes and Chessene shrieks as she dies.

As Jamie speculates about Shockeye’s whereabouts, Six arrives back, with a slight limp. “He’s been…mothballed.” He says, without looking at him. Then Six shakes off whatever lingering thoughts he has about this and tries to start poking fun at him again. He pulls out his remote control and watches with great enjoyment as Six whines at the unfairness of this as his TARDIS is summoned.

“Jamie.” He says warmly.

“After you Doctor.”

“Oh no, after you Jamie.”

Jamie turns to Peri to say goodbye, and leans forward to kiss her cheek. Peri is perplexed, and both Doctors huff in surprise. Jamie flashes a grin at both of them, before addressing Six. “Doctor.” He does not make any move to approach Six.

Six does not approach Jamie either, but there is a longing in his eyes that is not quite hidden, even as he drapes himself with a conceited mannerism once again. “Keep an eye on the old gentlemen will you?”

Old gentlemen?! He draws himself up haughtily. “Do try to keep out of my way in future and in past, there’s a good fellow.” He retorts, and then mellows. “The time continuum should be big enough for the both of us…just!”

He meets Six’s gaze one last time, and knows he has been understood. ‘Both of us’ translates to ‘all of us’ – he hopes for all of their sakes this sort of thing doesn’t happen again. They cannot keep meeting themselves.

-

He steers the TARDIS to hover on the edge of a contracting gas nebula, to give them some time to themselves to recover from their ordeal before they collect Victoria. He is exhausted, both in body and mind, worn out from the pressures that he had been subjected to.

It is Jamie who moves first, pulling him in to fierce embrace, and he allows Jamie to bury his face in his shoulder. He wonders what Jamie had suffered, with the unstable time currents present in the space station. As a time traveller, he may have been susceptible to them, with long term exposure. He worries about how long Jamie had been left there alone. He does not ask now; he knows Jamie does not want to think about it.

He pats Jamie’s back comfortingly. To distract Jamie (and not because he is curious), he asks, “so what did you think of my other self then?”

Jamie’s chuckle is muffled, but genuine. 

“I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t like him.” He says, ignoring his fear of what Jamie could say. “Regeneration is a tricky thing sometimes. So if he was a little…rough around the edges, I wouldn’t take it personally.”

Jamie draws back, and pins him with a perceptive stare. “He was you. Different, aye, but still the same. Regeneration doesn’t change you that much.”

“Oh.” He smiles and looks away in embarrassment, because he is overwhelmingly pleased by Jamie’s assessment. Jamie won’t care if he changes again. To change the subject, he asks, “so, what did his jacket look like? The one Peri doesn’t want me to wear?”

Jamie grins impishly and begins to describe the jacket in exquisite detail.

He is rather sorry he asked.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the record, I don’t have any problem with Six’s jacket. But it’s so colourful, I couldn’t resist the teasing. Plus, Colin Baker has said in interviews that he had actually wanted an outfit like the Ninth Doctor had. So to give Six back some pride, I have decided there is a reason he picks That Jacket when he regenerates.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The Three Doctors; The Five Doctors; The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	7. The Five Doctors (Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that there is a belief that the Time Lords kept Two around, doing little missions for them after the trial in The War Games before they exiled him, but for my story I am sticking to the interpretation that they exiled him straight after they dealt with his companions. 
> 
> I make poor Two suffer through lots of angst and anxiety. (I’m sorry, I love you so much Two! I don’t believe all the horrible things you think about yourself.)
> 
> Many Brigadier-Feels contained within. I salute you, Nicholas Courtney.

-7-

The man places the First major piece down carefully, easing it into place, and then surveys the Time Scoop again.

The Game continues.

-

When he sees the article in the paper, he laughs happily and tells his companions that they have to go back to yesterday. Jamie cranes over his shoulder to see, curious, but Zoe looks put out.

“But why Doctor? We’re already here aren’t we? Can’t we just go now?”

“Now, now, Zoe. This is important. You’ll still be able to go on and enjoy the festivities, there’s just somewhere else I need to be, that’s all.”

Jamie, having read the article, grins. “Aye, Zoe. A quick trip back to yesterday won’t hurt. Besides, there’ll be more souvenirs for you to pick up yesterday than there is today.”

Zoe, for once, is impressed with Jamie’s logic and agrees. They hurry back to the TARDIS and he nudges the time machine back into the previous day. To all of their surprise (though he hides his exceptionally well), the TARDIS moves willingly and without a single shudder. 

(Almost, he thinks, as though the old girl feels he should go to that point in time too, and wants to draw his attention to it.)

He escorts his companions most of the way, before cheerfully waving them off. 

Jamie hesitates. “Did you want me to come with you Doctor?”

He smiles. “Oh, it’s all right Jamie. It’s only for a few minutes, I shan’t stay long. Not even I can get into trouble in a few minutes!”

Jamie looks dubious at this. Zoe waits on the corner, impatiently. “Come on, Jamie!”

“Besides, you know The Brigadier will keep me out of trouble.”

“Aye, I suppose.” Jamie smiles wryly. “Say hello for me and Zoe.”

“I will. Now go on, off you go.” He watches the two of them race off and smiles to himself, reflecting fondly on how dear his two friends have become to him.

-

He gets all the way into the building without being questioned until he reaches the right door, and has just finished congratulating himself when the little man at the desk refuses to let him in. While the man blithers on the intercom, he rolls his eyes and strolls confidently around to the door. The sergeant jumps to his feet in a panic, and proclaims he can’t enter.

“Not allowed? Me? I’m allowed everywhere.” He says mildly, and slips into the room, directing a charming smile at his old friend. “Brigadier.”

(He is a little stunned to see how different The Brigadier is – how much older. He often forgets how swiftly the passage of time marks these humans, how rapidly they age. Most don’t even see a century; which is merely the span of a childhood for Time Lords.)

The Brigadier stares at him a moment, clearly surprised to see HIM. (He wonders how many years it has been since The Brigadier saw him with this face.)

“For once, I was able to steer the TARDIS, and here I am.” (He neglects to mention that she practically steered herself here. He is sure she won’t mind if he takes the credit just this once.)

The Brigadier seems highly amused (and moved, even if the man would never admit it) to hear that he deliberately came to visit just because he wanted to hear the guest of honours speech he had already read in tomorrow’s paper. Determined not to allow the man to begin labouring the point, he turns his attention onto the other military officer in the room.

“That’s Colonel Crichton, my replacement.” The Brigadier says.

He inspects this new man, but dismisses him just as quickly. It doesn’t really matter – for him, there is only One Brigadier. And he is sure that sentiment will be held by all of him.

“Ah. Yes. Mine was pretty unpromising too.”

(He does not mean to say the words that leave his mouth, and he realises with a jolt that he has just recalled Three, in vivid detail. He cannot often remember his future selves very clearly, and he has a dark sense of foreboding. Why has been able to do so now?)

He glances around the room in slow confusion, searching for something that could have triggered his relapse, but doesn’t find anything. (The words “you’ve had this place redecorated” and “I don’t like it” leave his mouth, but he is thinking of a TARDIS, not an office.) He suspects the Brigadier has noticed something is not quite right, because the man promptly corrals him out into the grounds.

“Yeti, Cybermen.” The Brigadier reminisces as they stroll along. “We’ve seen some times Doctor.”

“And Omega. Don’t forget Omega.” (And then he is very concerned. Why has he thought of Omega? He should not be able to remember those events with such precision. He is not able to draw this much focus when he really tries, and yet now the memories come freely.)

“I must say goodbye Brigadier.” He decides, and the man looks rather downhearted that he is leaving already. This reassures him somehow, to know The Brigadier is still appreciates HIS company. “I really shouldn’t be here at all. I’m not exactly breaking the laws of time, but I am bending them a little.”

(Breaking the laws of time. The First Law, the most Important Rule of them all. His memories are fluctuating strangely, and an ominous thought grows.)

(Oh no. Not again.)

He looks around in trepidation, and catches sight of the time distortion in horror. “Brigadier, I think our past is catching up on us. Or maybe it’s our future.” (Suddenly, he cannot remember anything, and he is frightened.) “Come on, run!”

They flee, but it does no good (just as it hadn’t before) – the distortion wraps around them both and pulls them out of time.

-

They are deposited in a barren landscape contaminated with the essence of decay. He collapses and retches dryly, shaking violently. The wrongness – the wrongness! – of the distortion burns at his throat and his mind. It had felt even worse than he thinks it had before.

(Had it actually been worse? His body had been older when he was younger, and yet he had recovered well enough then. Perhaps he was weaker than One had been, in mind and spirit. Perhaps he simply wasn’t strong enough to endure the pressures anymore.)

He notices absently that The Brigadier has moved to steady him, and continues to do so until his shuddering stops.

-

Once he is back on his feet and in control once more (and The Brigadier has stopped fretting over him like a nursemaid), it does not take The Brigadier long to grow frustrated with the situation.

“My dear Brigadier, it’s no good blaming me.” (He did not remember in time, he cannot focus his mind, everything is falling to pieces within him.)

The Brigadier wants to know where they are. (He cannot remember anything that would be helpful, he has no frame of reference for their situation, and it is this more than anything else that makes him certain that his time streams are being crossed – again.) “I’m not sure, but I have some very nasty suspicions.” 

They are attacked by a Cyberman and forced to run before he can puzzle anything further out.

-

The Time Lords are interfering with him again, he surmises in fury as he stalks along the path. His mood sours further when he sees the Tower.

“We’re on Gallifrey, in the Death Zone.” He tells The Brigadier.

“You know this place?”

“To my shame.” (Oh, yes, he knows the old tales very well indeed.) “My ancestors had tremendous powers, which they misused disgracefully.” 

(He does not voice his opinion that he believes the High Council still misuse their powers, and that’s why he has no time for them. His ancestors embraced the evil part of their nature openly, but the Time Lords in authority these days tend to prefer to secretly manipulate things from the shadows. The nature of evil may wear a different cloak – or face – but it does not really change.)

The Brigadier is content for the moment to listen to him. (This is a different side to his friend, and he wonders whether he will be responsible in some fashion for this open mindedness, or if it is merely a side effect of human aging.)

“Where are we going?”

“To the Tower! To Rassilon!”

(Saying Rassilon’s name aloud for the first time since he has arrived in the Death Zone sends shivers up his spine.)

“Is that where he lives?”

“It’s his tomb.” (And the mere mention of it disturbs him for reasons he cannot understand…nor remember.)

-

As they grow nearer to the Tower, a dark thought rises in his mind.

“Could Rassilon himself have brought us here?” He stills, and The Brigadier stops beside him. “No one really knows how extensive his powers were.” He really doesn’t want to face another all-powerful Time Lord, after what happened with Omega. How on earth would they be expected to defeat someone else like that? (And why is he stuck being flooded with memories of that other time and not THIS one, which would be far more helpful?)

The Brigadier clearly notices as he grows more and more grim. “Didn’t you say he was supposed to be rather a good type?”

“So the official history says. But there are many rumours and legends to the contrary.”

(He knows better than anyone that the official history cannot be trusted, especially when it is written and recorded in the Capitol. He has seen the records of what is said occurred that Day, between him, The Master, and The Rani, on the outskirts of the galaxy. He has seen what has been written about who betrayed who, who regenerated and why, and the research that it has been conjectured that one or two or all of them were conducting. And he alone knows the extent of what really happened.)

“I assume we’re not expected to win?” The Brigadier inquires dryly.

The question brings him up short, and he suddenly finds he cannot lie to his friend about this.

(He cannot remember, he cannot remember, and it hurts so much. The empty void in his memory burns and eats away at him.)

He gives The Brigadier no answer, which is an answer enough, and they continue on.

\- 

There are three ways into the Tower; above, below, and the main door. He plans to enter below. It is an understated approach, and the simplest way to infiltrate the Tower without being detected.

(It is also less likely to be the way One or Three would go. He is sure they are both floating around nearby, and it will improve their chances.)

-

They make their way through the underground tunnels, and The Brigadier is now exasperated. (He refuses to believe the man is tired; he never tires.)

“Damn it, Doctor, I’m just not built for this kind of thing anymore.”

(The Brigadier is grower older, and the thought saddens him. His concept of time is so vast, so all encompassing that sometimes he forgets that his human friends are bound to a linear concept of time, even if they understand the mechanics of time travel. They will always progress through it at a linear rate. He fears that one day he may land somewhere in the future and the paper he reads tells him instead that The Brigadier is…no, he cannot bring himself even to think it.)

They are both distracted from their usual repartee by the sound of growling, and they pick up their pace. They are being hunted swiftly by the creature, and eventually manage to take refuge in a small alcove.

He digs through his pockets in haste and pulls out a Galactic Glitter. The resulting flash lights up the caves.

“It’s a Yeti! It must have been left over from the games.” 

(He is stung by a brief surge of pity for the poor old creature. How long had it been down here in these dark tunnels, alone and hungry, and driven to madness?)

Then the Yeti roars and slashes furiously at the rock before them, which collapses under the assault.

“We’re trapped.” The Brigadier says bitterly. “Buried alive.”

(Guilt pierces his hearts. The Brigadier could die down here, in these tunnels on an alien world so very far from home, and all because he popped in to visit on a whim. This is entirely his fault, the foolish old man that he is. The distortion only took The Brigadier along because he was keeping his company.)

He turns his gaze towards The Brigadier, prepared to apologise, and catches the way the torchlight flickers…in the wind!

He finds the door into the Tower, but when it opens far too easily, all his previous concerns about this situation come back. He enters the Tower very gingerly.

-

An eerie wailing scream cuts through the air, and the sound chills his blood. It sings of betrayal, loss and deep sorrow. He knows the noise will haunt him for a very long time.

The Brigadier doesn’t hear it with his ears, but he feels it in his soul. The fear being projected out from Rassilon’s Tomb is wearing on him too.

Then another scream sounds, but with a far more physical weight, and The Brigadier does hear this one. (He is worried, very worried, because it sounds familiar.)

“It may be a trap.” He is very distrustful of anything in this place. “You wait here.”

“Certainly not. I’m coming with you.”

(Warmth and gratitude settles over him, alleviating his fears. He wonders if The Brigadier realises how much this demonstration of loyalty means to him.)

They move down the corridor, following the direction of the sound, and when they find the source he is terribly anxious again.

“Jamie! Zoe!”

They say they are trapped within a force field and implore him to turn back. He grows more agitated by the minute – and he is finding it increasingly difficult to concentrate. There is something in the air that is disturbing his thought patterns, almost as if there is an imprint of someone else’s memory lingering in the place where Jamie and Zoe stand.

Jamie…and…Zoe.

He looks at them, really looks closely. Zoe’s eyes are sharp and full of knowledge, as always, but they lack the spark and quick wit she carries. And Jamie’s eyes…his eyes are wrong. There is intelligence and absolute loyalty, yes. But there is no fire, nor any of the intensity that they usually burn so brightly with.

“It’s a matter of memory.” He says. He means his own, of course; the images of his companions that he carries inside his mind. “You’re not real.”

But the words that leave his mouth next do not come from HIS memory. They come from the imprint of thought that hangs around Not-Quite-Jamie and Not-Quite-Zoe like a fine mist. As he steps nearer to his Not-Quite-Companions, that mist brushes across his mind and stings painfully.

“When you were returned to your own people, the Time Lords erased your memory of the period you spent with me. So how do you know who we are? Answer!”

They both scream those horrible wailing screams as they shimmer out of existence like the phantoms they really are. The noise does not resonant within him this time, because he is too haunted by the sight of watching his dear friends become nothing but ghosts.

(And because the words he had heard himself speak have made him feel sick.)

As the illusions before him disappear, he feels that wisp of memory vanish with them, and he wants to weep with despair. (Please, no. Don’t let that happen to them. Not to his friends. Not Zoe. Not Jamie.)

“They’re gone.”

“Yes. Yes. It’s sad.” But he does not have the luxury of time now to feel grief over what will come.

So he leads The Brigadier on. The Tomb is near. He will find the ones responsible for this mess, and he will fix it somehow, and get The Brigadier home. It is the least he can do for his friend. (Especially as it seems there will not be much he can do for any of his other friends.)

“Have faith, Brigadier. Have I ever led you astray?”

“On many occasions.”

(He knows this response is made in jest, because of the dry way The Brigadier delivers it, but the words cut him deeply. Unreliable, he hears more ghosts of the past whisper spitefully in his mind, unworthy, unpromising. Disappointing.)

“Yes, well.” But he knows The Brigadier is offering him banter as comfort. He supposes The Brigadier, this far into their acquaintance in his own time stream, understands just how much he depends on it sometimes, so he responds in turn, cheerfully. “This will be the exception.”

-

They enter the tomb, and he sees One and Three are already there, and appear to be working on something – without him! “The little fellow is perfectly all right, thank you very much.” He snaps in indignation as he flings his coat aside and stalks towards them. “Of course I’m here! You don’t imagine anything you two can do would stump me, do you?” (They are still working, not even looking up to acknowledge him. Is he so unimportant to them? )

He shoves them both aside to have a look at the inscription himself. As he brushes his arm against Three, he is accosted with a brief sense of vertigo as his memories shift in confusion. The realisation stabs at his mind with great force. That echo of thought that he had picked up from the illusions of his companions, it had come from Three; vestiges of memory that had bled through from one self to the other, the imprint caused by the pressure from the Mind of Rassilon. Three had encountered illusions of his own, thought of Jamie and Zoe, and the memory had been caught and carried, transferred to the phantoms that he had seen.

(If not for Three, he wouldn’t have to know what awaited them in the future. He knows it is not fair to blame his other self for this, but it is easier to squeeze his despair away with anger.) 

He glares crossly at Three, who has the gall to be unaffected. So instead, he listens to The Brigadier, who speaks up behind him, in an attempt to think of other things.

“It’s Miss Smith, isn’t it? And Miss Jovanka.”

(He remembers the name Tegan Jovanka, he thinks, but not that of Miss Smith.)

-

(He becomes frustrated very quickly. His memory has begun to splinter painfully again – as it had been doing during the entire debacle with Omega – and he is furious. While he certainly had been having trouble recalling things while he had been wandering through the Death Zone, it had not been this bad at all. He can only conclude that it is because now he is with his other selves, living through things again that he already witnessed as One. He spitefully hopes that Three suffers as much as he is doing when he has to go through these things, despite the fact that this is a childish thing to think.)

It does not take the three of them long to decipher the inscription, and he admits to himself that the translation leaves him quite curious as to why this game has been arranged in this manner.

(He is overbearingly curious in this body; it is part of his nature to want to pull things apart and examine how they work, meddle with things that should be left untouched. He loves to find doors with ‘do not open’ on them and buttons that say ‘do not push’ – he cannot help himself. And then, he loves to march up to the person who wrote those things, and tell them why it was a stupid idea to write something like that in the first place. If you tell someone not to touch something, of course they are going to be tempted.)

He almost bursts with pride when One picks him to explain to their companions what the inscription says. “It’s Old High Gallifreyan, the ancient language of the Time Lords. Not many people understand it these days, –”

“– fortunately I do.” His other selves chime in unison with him.

(For some reason, this makes him want to smile. So instead he frowns.)

“What does this bit mean?” He wonders aloud, and then is instantly cross when Three decides to read it to him. “I know what it SAYS, but what does it MEAN?” 

One cuts across him, clearly sensing he and Three are about to start bickering. One continues to explain to their companions, and he feels strangely bereft, as though he has failed to meet the mark somehow. So when One tells them of the reward – immortality – he picks the explanation back up.

“Rassilon possesses it now, and is willing to share it with whoever takes the ring.”

“Thank you gentlemen.” A man with an almost-familiar face says smoothly as he enters the tomb, a weapon drawn upon them. “That is exactly what I needed to know.”

(He struggles against his memories – he should know who this is. The man’s eyes are dark and angry – oh so angry – and the look burns through him more painfully than anything else he has yet encountered in the Death Zone.)

“I came here to help you. A little unwillingly, but I came. My services were scorned, my help refused. Now I shall help myself, to immortality.”

(The Master. It is The Master.)

(The shock jolts through his system and his hearts pound in his chest. How could he not have known – he could he have forgotten – that The Master was here?)

He tacks on “for anything” to the end of whatever it was that Three had just said. (He is too busy trying to mend the agonising ruptures that are tearing through his memory, taking advantage of his confusion. He cannot focus, he cannot think.)

The power of Rassilon’s will has been ever constant in the tomb since they arrived, a presence in the room that him and his other selves have all sensed, but it has left them alone. Now, that will is bearing down on The Master, drumming in time to his hearts, and his eyes are alight with madness as he drifts the aim of his weapon back and forth between all three of his selves.

(While the weapon moves steadily between them all, The Master’s eyes do not. They are primarily focused on Three, and he does not look at One at all. But he only glances at Two once or twice.)

(He wonders why The Master is doing this. Can it be that deep down – rather very deep down – The Master knows he cannot hold this aspect of him responsible? ‘I didn’t know you were here’, he wants to say. ‘I didn’t scorn your service, or refuse your help.’ He tries to form the words ‘it wasn’t me’ – but they still taste like the lie they were the last time he said them, all those years ago, and he cannot get them out.)

“Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor. How gratifying to do it three times over!”

(?!?!?!?!)

(The Master kills him. The Master kills him. The Master kills him. The Master kills him. The Master kills him. The Master kills him.)

(He wonders which one of him it will be.)

The Brigadier delivers a swift punch to The Master’s face and knocks him out.

It does not surprise him that it is One who approaches the renegade to check on him. He concentrates on avoiding everyone’s gaze. He feels out of place and useless. 

(One and Three seem to have a handle on things, as usual. They could probably sort all of this mess out without him. Maybe he should have found a nice rock to sit on in the middle of the Death Zone and play a tune on his recorder until they both solved the problem and sent him back to his time stream like a good little boy. What use has he been really?)

Miss Jovanka suggests vehemently that they should tie The Master up. Miss Smith offers to help, but she looks to The Doctors for approval.

He is ready to protest. All The Master really did was threaten to kill him. And he does that a lot.

It is Three who softly and sadly states that he thinks it would be for the best.

-

While Three is attempting to free the TARDIS, One watches as he searches the computers for information on where their other self is – they are all certain all five of them were brought here, but they have seen no sign of Four yet.

(He had almost wanted to kick himself when he realised that he had forgotten this too. All five of him are here, because there are only five of him – One, Two, Three, Four, and Five – that exist in this temporal moment. But, though indistinct and displaced, he can still perceive the sense that somewhere lost in his memories, he has knowledge of another self who does not yet exist – Six – and this inconsistency is tearing his mind to shreds. It is excruciating.)

He gives a soft cry of triumph when he finds the information on Four. Then he pales. One leans forward to see what he has found.

They look at each other with dark foreboding and he turns it off.

Three disables the force field, and as the TARDIS arrives, he tries to contact the Capitol.

“Calling the Capitol, calling the Capitol.”

(He is worried when there is no immediate answer. What has happened to his other self, Five, the young one he can just about remember?)

“Yes, I’m here.”

(His relief when he hears and sees Five is immense.)

“Ah, there I am. I mean, there you are.” He begins to tell the young boy what the situation is, but he is cut off. (He is a little perturbed that there was not even any acknowledgement about the reassurance he gave that his other selves and companions and the TARDIS were safe.)

Five speaks to them in a flat and halted manner, issuing instructions and then terminates the signal before any of them can add anything further.

“Touch nothing, indeed? Who does he think he is?” (Not another high and mighty self with an insufferable ego, he had hoped. Though he didn’t really trust his memories at the moment, he had been under the impression that he liked Five more than that.)

“Something’s wrong, you know.” Three says uncomfortably.

“You haven’t changed.” He scoffs. “Still finding menace in your own shadow.”

“I feel the same.” One affirms mildly.

“Oh.” 

(His mind is still warping under the stress of their converging time streams. He feels quite numb, and wonders if this is the reason he is still several paces behind the both of them. He has almost accepted the fact that there is nothing he can do to fight the devastation occurring within his thoughts as his nearly-memories continue to pull back and forth achingly. Still, he is determined not the let Three or One know about his suffering.)

Five arrives by transmat with President Borusa. As Miss Jovanka steps forward to voice her concern for Five, Borusa silences her and freezes all the companions into motionlessness. Then he surveys the other Doctors with bored satisfaction.

“You have served the purpose for which I bought you here.”

(Time Lords! He wants to scream. He had been RIGHT! His first instinct had been that the Time Lords were interfering with him again! And it had been such an important member of the High Council, no less. Miserable old hypocrites that they all are.)

“He wants immortality!”

(Three, naturally, decides this is an I-told-you-so moment. Pompous windbag.)

“We can’t allow it you know!”

(He has spent much of his time while being this aspect of himself fighting evil. He has battled the corrupt, the manipulative, the conquerors, and the power hungry. He does not stand for injustice, and will not tolerate the infliction of suffering. And Borusa, standing before them so self-righteously, embodies all of these things.)

The three of them face Borusa and challenge his will, but he wears the coronet of Rassilon and his mind is strong. 

They cannot do this on their own. “Doctor!” He calls out to Five, who remains unresponsive, devoid of thought. “We need you! Join us!”

(He has never before addressed any of his other selves as “Doctor” – not Three, not One, not Six. But he knows what it feels like, to be caught feeling you are alone amongst yourself, and he reaches out to this lost looking Other Self with empathy and desperation. If he cannot help himself as his own mind shudders and splinters, at least he can help his other self.)

“Concentrate.” One insists. “We must be one.”

Together, they all focus their minds on Five, calling him back to them from the darkness he is wrapped within.

Five breaks free of Borusa, and as he stands with them, a voice booms in the air.

“This is the Game of Rassilon.”

“That was the voice of Rassilon.” One says. “It’s out of our hands now.”

(In some ways, he is relieved. It means that he no longer has to pretend he is in control. He can take a step back, allow One and Three to take charge as they are always wont to do, and he can attempt to ease the damage within his mind.) 

Borusa names The Doctors as his servants, aiding him in his quest for immortality. Rassilon asks if this is so. Three and Five fiercely protest along with him. “Don’t believe him!” He shouts.

“Don’t listen to them, Lord Rassilon.” One calls out. He, Three and Five turn their heads to stare at him in quick succession, baffled. “President Borusa speaks the truth.”

“You believe that Borusa deserves the immortality he seeks?”

“Indeed, I do!”

(He does not understand. He cannot remember. Why is One allowing Borusa to win?)

Borusa takes the ring, and claims immortality, as he has desired to do. The stone effigies on the side of the slab begin to stir with awareness. Borusa cries out in horror and pain, and he is transferred into a spare slot in the stone. Once he has become a part of it too, the effigies all harden once again, immortalised in stone.

“And what of you, Doctors?” Rassilon asks. “Do you claim immortality too?”

There is a resounding chorus of no. But just to be safe (since he doesn’t trust Rassilon either, after all), he hides himself behind Three.

Rassilon agrees to send them back to their separate time streams. He returns The Master also; all of his selves watch the renegade disappear.

“His sins will find their punishment in due time.” Rassilon says with dark amusement.

Five looks rather miserable at this. Three has tensed up, while One appears indifferent, but he remembers how he used to play that tactic when he did not know what to think. He slumps. 

(He had not had a chance to speak to his old friend; he had missed his chance to apologise, to explain, or to irritate the man into acquiescence. They had always both found that latter tactic amusing when they had been young.)

“You have chosen wisely, Doctor.” Rassilon’s presence fades back into obscurity.

One is immensely smug as Three and Five both turn to ponder him. He doesn’t bother – he knows what has happened, though whether it is because he remembers, or simply feels it is irrelevant. 

(“To lose is to win, and he who wins shall lose.” Sometimes the person who wins cannot be called a winner, especially where immortality is concerned. He thinks of all his human friends, particularly The Brigadier; he thinks of aging and linear time. To linger on, and leave all your friends behind, that is a curse, not a blessing. And Borusa was a fool for chasing after immortality – Rassilon would never have shared his power with another.)

They all prepare to depart, and he approaches Five cheerfully, pleased to see the young boy appears undaunted by whatever he had suffered under Borusa.

“So, you’re the latest model, hmm?”

“Yes, and the most agreeable.” Five’s eyes sparkle and there is a detectable laugh hidden behind the smile. Five is teasing him.

“Certainly the most impudent.” He corrects with an amused smile of his own. He likes this boy the best, he thinks, of all the others he’s known. He takes a moment to concentrate very hard on this thought, and suddenly Five smiles at him warmly. Good, so he’ll remember that.

Three interjects into their moment with a comment about their dress sense. He inspects Five briefly, and then Three. He wants to laugh, because he knows it gets much worse. (He remembers the waistcoat clearly. And Jamie is fond of describing That Jacket whenever he wants to raise a smile from him.)

One gets their attention with a gentle rebuke, bids them all – mainly Five – a swift farewell, and then is quick to move towards the TARDIS with – 

Susan.

(His hearts pang with regret. He didn’t get a chance to speak to her either. But at least she is with One, and he will get to see her again. He shakes off his melancholy.)

He turns to Five and shakes his hands enthusiastically as he says goodbye. Yes, he most certainly prefers Five. He turns rather reluctantly to Three next. Three holds out his hand and he takes it as he says goodbye rather sincerely. (He may not like him, but Three is still part of him.) Three isn’t so bad, he supposes. But when Three smiles rather indulgently at him, he worries that Three will remember that too. “Fancy Pants,” he adds quickly. No sense in letting Three grow complacent.

Three scowls. “Scarecrow.”

He storms off in a dramatic huff, much to the amusement of the other companions, leaving The Brigadier to bid farewell to Three and Five without the added complication of having him listen in. The Brigadier gets somewhat uncomfortable with having to justify emotional moments, he remembers.

-

The distortion sets them back about fifty yards from where it had taken them from, useless and imprecise thing. 

He leans against a tree as he tries to steady his breathing. The Brigadier steps towards him, worried, but he holds up a hand for him to wait. Eventually, the tight compression in his temple fades to a dull thud and he groans quietly. The aftermath had taken him by surprise again – during his last infringement against the first rule of time, he had been the first experiencing it, not the second, and he had forgotten how nauseating the buffering of his memories was. He feels dreadfully ill, and this time tries to compensate by dumping the recollections instead of sorting through them.

It doesn’t really help to lessen his migraine.

“Doctor?”

“Oh, I’m all right, Brigadier. Just don’t like time travelling without the TARDIS.”

The Brigadier is not stupid. The younger Brigadier, still in charge of UNIT, would have told him so at once. This Brigadier watches him with compassion, with concern, asking the question because he wants to help and not just because he wants an answer. “Doctor, did something happen in the tomb that –” 

The convulsion tears its way through his entire frame before he can stop it. It brings The Brigadier up short. He offers the man a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, though I’d rather not talk about our little adventure just now, if you don’t mind. Meeting your other selves is entirely overrated.” (He doesn’t like seeing the frown this brings to the man’s face, the thoughtful look that he is levelled with. He feels suddenly vulnerable and exposed.) “Well, I really must be off this time Brigadier. I shall see you around perhaps.”

“Stay for the ceremony Doctor.” The Brigadier says softly. “If only for one drink.”

“No, really, I –”

“Please.”

He is quiet a moment, touched. “Well. All right then. Just the one.” Then he pulls himself together as they head back towards the building. “But only because you insisted!”

“I was going to try ordering you next.” Comes the wry response. “But at least you reached the decision yourself before it came to that.”

The tirade that he gives in return lasts for their entire walk back.

-

He meets Zoe and Jamie back at the TARDIS, on time, just as he promised. Zoe has so many bags piled at her feet he wonders how the two of them managed to carry all of them (or rather, how Jamie managed it, and what Zoe threatened him with to make him agree).

Zoe apologises between every exciting anecdote she supplies him with; “I know you must be tired, Doctor – you’ve hardly said a word yet!” But she cannot contain her eagerness to share her mini adventures, so she rambles on for some time, as he helps Jamie move all her souvenirs into the TARDIS. Her enthusiasm makes him smile. Finally, she comes to the end of the tale, and declares she is going to celebrate her good fortune by having a hot bath. She disappears in the direction of her room.

Jamie waits until the sound of her footsteps have faded before turning to him. “Doctor? What’s wrong?”

He looks up. Jamie takes one look at his eyes and somehow he just knows.

“Oh. Not again.”

Something inside him breaks and he launches himself at Jamie, clinging to him as he strangles a sob. His thoughts are clouded and fraught with dark pockets of emptiness, and it has nothing to do with those drinks The Brigadier gave him. 

“What’s wrong with me?” He hears himself whisper brokenly. “I should be used to this by now.”

Jamie tucks him under one arm, protectively. “No. It doesn’t work like that.”

(Jamie understands. He always understands.)

“You need sleep.” The highlander says firmly.

“It won’t help.”

“Aye, it will. No arguing. Trust me.”

He does trust Jamie. He lets himself be guided gently down the TARDIS corridors.

“I’ll look out for you, Doctor. Always.”

His hearts contract painfully (yes, yes, it’s sad) and squeezes his eyes shut to force the echo of thought away. “Thank you, Jamie.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’m incapable of ending a chapter happily. Oh well.
> 
> Thank you to all those who have left kudos!! 
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The War Games; The Three Doctors; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	8. The Second Regeneration hurts the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The War Games is monstrously long, but excellent. It is also mostly responsible for the massive length of this chapter.
> 
> Once again, characterisation is deliberate for maximum angst. Apologies in advance to any fans of Liz Shaw and Captain Mike Yates.
> 
> Lots of Brigadier being awesome, and lots of Doctor-Master feels. Also contains a traditional earth’s-heroes-are-being-attacked-by-zombies scene, because I couldn’t resist.
> 
> This chapter is seriously massive. I hope you are prepared with several large glasses, because this chapter is milked for all it’s worth.
> 
>  
> 
> -

-8-

-

Things have been more difficult for him since he had last been in the company of his other selves. He knows that his mind has not quite recovered from the experience; he wonders sometimes if it is because he has broken the First Rule thrice now, once more than he had before, when he was One. Of course, even attempting to think about it gives him a headache, so most of the time he doesn’t.

(But it is much harder to forget things that will be, when your companion is aware of the future too.)

He keeps both Jamie and Zoe closer than he had before. Zoe tends to grow exasperated when she notices, but Jamie is always quick to divert her attention. She is still unaware that there is the possibility for multiple Doctors to exist, let alone together in the same space/time, and neither he nor Jamie has seen any need to tell her otherwise. (Jamie never mentions it, because to him it doesn’t matter: The Doctor will always still be The Doctor. But he doesn’t mention it because he does not like to think of his other selves at all: it is safer and less painful that way.) Jamie understands, as he always does, and does not need to question his behaviour when severely overprotective moods seize him.

Sometimes during their adventures, when Zoe has wandered off and Jamie has followed her to keep her out of trouble, he is acutely aware of the empty spaces beside him where they should be standing and it makes him sad. (Most of the time, it also makes him panic. He cannot bear for them to be long removed from his sight – he constantly fears for their safety and frets whenever they are confronted or threatened by someone in power.) He refuses to understand or remember why. (He knows with every fibre of his being that he must keep them away from those with great authority. He dreads the coming day that he is bound to fail.)

-

They find themselves in the middle of a war zone. He is always saddened to see how efficient human beings are at waging war. He knows that they have so much more potential than that. But here he is, in the middle of the First World War, a dark and terrible period in earth history.

It is not long before he feels that something is very wrong. Everything around him appears exactly like the war, but something itches at his senses. There is a lingering confusion in the back of everyone’s eyes that makes him uneasy. (He knows what it is like to have your memories shift within your mind because things cannot make sense, thoughts rearranging themselves in order to prevent the damage from spreading.) He wants to help all of these people.

He is proud when it is Jamie who first questions the world they have stumbled into. Jamie tells him of encountering a Redcoat who had believed it was 1745. He is prouder still to realise that Jamie, a highlander who had long been fighting that particular war when they had first met, had chosen instead to exchange words rather than blows when he had seen the Redcoat. He doesn’t mind when Jamie often resorts to force, but whenever the young man deliberately chooses not to, it always makes him smile delightedly.

His good mood, however, does not last long. He is furious (and highly disturbed) when he finds the map that lays out each time zone into neatly labelled sections – 1917 zone, Roman zone, American civil war, English civil war, 30 Years war, Russo-Japanese war, Greek zone, Mexican civil war, Crimean war, Boer war, Peninsular war. The eleven different war zones are cordoned and labelled, with one nice blank sector in the centre. A command post if he ever saw one.

(He looks at the butchery of time zones on the map with deep anger, because they remind him of himself; different facets of the same whole that should never meet and have been tossed into one space. But it is the way the conflicting zones have been sutured together with such care and precision so as not to disturb the time continuum too drastically to call attention to it that leaves him anxious. He does not know who is behind this, but they are clearly a madman, and a genius; one with a thorough knowledge of the rules of time. It makes him apprehensive.)

-

When he sees the sleek space-time machine materialise, and soldiers file out of it, with blank expressions and lost eyes, he feels an old righteous fury settle over him. He does not know who is behind this, (he suspects, oh yes, he suspects), but he is going to find them and put a stop to the carnage being inflicted on these people, their bodies and minds, and the clinical destruction being wrought on the time streams. He enters the machine, to return to its base. He is determined to put things right. (No matter what it will cost him. No matter how frightened he has suddenly become.)

-

He and Zoe sneak into one of the lectures being given in the command post, and he stealthily gathers information on how to reverse the processing that is being used to keep all the human soldiers docile. But just as the session ends and they all turn to exit the room, they are interrupted by the arrival of a man who oozes authority. He is prepared to bluff his way easily out of notice, prepared to sing the praises and brilliance of the scientist he had been conversing with as a distraction.

Then the man turns, and their eyes meet. Horror and disbelief rise within him as he stares. Recognition floods the War Chief’s face and he panics, promptly forgetting about all the years that have transpired since their days at the Academy, faced with the older bully. He shouts for Zoe to run (but there is another older name that nearly makes it past his lips, as his thoughts are thrown into the past). He flees, and the soldiers give chase.

-

He is reunited with Jamie and they manage to ‘acquire’ one of the processing machines, but as they try to escape in one of the space-time machines, the controls are suddenly being interfered with, and he hastily attempts to counter the tampering.

“Will we still get away all right?” Jamie asks.

“It’s a slightly different design to the TARDIS.” Much more compliant – this is merely a machine. But it does not sing the way his TARDIS does, the way a TARDIS should, and this also means that there is a lack of empathy and symbiosis. This machine is disappointment.

A voice sounds over the communications unit, demanding their surrender, but it is not the voice he had been anticipating to hear, so he ignores it. Jamie is quick to understand that this machine is similar in function to the TARDIS, and is instantly far more wary about their situation than he had been moments before. Jamie, after all, has witnessed firsthand what happens when power hungry scientists begin meddling with forces of time they do not comprehend.

And then the dimensional controls are altered, and the walls begin to compress in around them. That’s when the voice he expects finally rings out.

“You must surrender, Doctor, or you will all be crushed to death. You have thirty seconds to decide.”

(He doesn’t need thirty seconds. He remembers that tone from long ago. The War Chief has always been eager to physically bully others into compliance.)

He exits the machine and faces the War Chief. “I won’t have my friends ill-treated, you know.” It is an acknowledgement. It is also a threat.

He is feeling vindictive enough to make sure he throws the gas vial dangerously close to the War Chief’s feet and it explodes. Even as they successfully escape this time, he is grim. Whenever the War Chief involves himself in a scheme, the stakes are high and the damage substantial, no matter who wins and who loses.

(And back in their days at the Academy, The Doctor would always end up suffering as collateral damage as a result.)

-

He knows when he is re-captured that he has made an error. He has been too used to challenging The Master to a battle of wits over the centuries; he had forgotten that the War Chief plays the game differently. The Master will stubbornly persevere with his outlandish strategy just to prove a point, but the War Chief has no scruples about letting someone else have their input if the end result is what he desires.

Once they are alone, the War Chief is quick to allude to the day he ran from Gallifrey. 

“I had every right to leave.” He says flatly, uninterested in the discussion he knows they are about to have.

“Stealing a TARDIS? Oh, I’m not criticising you. We are two of a kind.”

“We most certainly are not.”

“We both decided to leave our race.”

“I had reasons of my own.” (He does not want to revisit them now.) “Your reasons are only too obvious – power!”

The War Chief’s response to this is simply to point out how the history of earth is littered with slaughter, as they have been systemically killing each other since their species began. (He ignores the truth of this.) Then The War Chief begins to make the inevitable offer of a partnership.

“I’m not the cold hearted villain you suppose me to be.” (This is the traditional slight against The Master, and it still makes him bristle.)

He snaps angrily at the War Chief, laying out what is really being offered in plain words: an empire of slaves with the War Chief as its ruler. He wants no part in it – and the War Chief knows that.

(Last time the War Chief had made a spiel similar to this, only one of them present in that lab had been interested in it, and it had not been him. Nor had it been The Master. And that had always been why the War Chief made him any offer in the first place – because he hated and feared The Master far more than he had been jealous of The Doctor’s talents.)

He waits for his life to be threatened and is not disappointed. Then the War Chief’s superior arrives (and he finds it amusing that the man is called the War Lord.) The War Lord demands that he co-operates with their efforts, or both he and the War Chief will die. He doesn’t see the logic in this – without the War Chief, the War Lord’s plans will be fruitless.

(But he remains silent. He thinks about that day in the lab, and what has become of those five foolish children. He considers how many of them have died and regenerated – who has deserved it and who did not. He thinks of deaths yet to come – mostly his own. As he considers that perhaps it would be fitting that one renegade Time Lord would be responsible for the death of another, a shiver runs up his spine; this thought holds much weight within him, as though prompted by a long obscured memory.)

The War Lord leaves and he rounds on the War Chief. He knows that the War Chief had noticed his dark silence and is both unsettled and interested by it.

“I never promised to help you!” His voice is layered with implication. ‘I’m prepared to die for this’ is as true now as it had been that day on the outskirts of the Capitol. ‘Are you?’

“You have no alternative.” Is the cold reply, and ‘I have contingencies in place to prevent anything you will attempt’ is equally heard. He lowers his gaze, worried. The War Chief was always highly skilled in constructing scenarios to ensure everyone else was forced to play within his rules.

(And then, unbidden, he thinks about the Rules of Time as he surveys the map of the time zones on the table before him. He thinks of Jamie and of Zoe.)

(No. He realises as a sickening self-hatred rises within him. There is always another way out.)

He has never really been one for following rules.

-

He pretends he has no choice but to dance to the War Chief’s tune. He lies to Jamie and Zoe. When they are both caught, Zoe looks to be more shocked at how betrayed she feels than the betrayal itself, and Jamie is confused, but this is quick to give way to a show of rueful resignation. (He knows in his hearts that Jamie understands immediately that he has been coerced into this action, but it still hurts that it has come to this. He hopes that as soon as Jamie voices his faith, Zoe will believe it too.)

He has never felt so ashamed of himself before. Their expressions will haunt him for a long while.

[For much longer than he even fears at this point.]

-

It is remarkably easy to wrangle information from the War Chief, just as it has always been – the man’s greatest flaw is still his insatiable need to feed his ego. But when it becomes clear that the War Chief wants his TARDIS, he momentarily loses his temper. (His rage is bought on by fear. His mind whispers with images of the TARDIS broken and abused, and he is terrified that these are not imaginings, but memories.) He forces himself to mellow; another threat from the War Chief helps. For now, he must continue to stay within the rules. So he agrees when he is told to re-process his friends, and the other prisoners.

-

Under the War Chief’s eye, he begins to set up the processing equipment. The others all eye him warily, except for Jamie, who has shoved his way out of the group to stand close. He gently makes Jamie sit in the machine. Jamie does not question, does not resist, and settles in while the group stares at him in disbelief.

“I’m sorry Jamie,” he says cautiously as he checks over his friend. “But it won’t hurt, I promise you. It will be just like slipping on a new jacket, even if it is gaudy and distasteful to everyone else.” 

Jamie meets his gaze. “Aye,” is all that is said, but fingers brush firmly against his own before he moves his hands away, and he thinks he has been understood.

He begins the process, and when it is complete, the War Chief moves forward expectantly to see if it has worked. He calmly explains to the other man that Jamie will now believe he is fighting the redcoats in 1745. Jamie agrees with all suggestions put to him regarding this, and the War Chief is pleased and tells him to continue with the others.

He watches the War Chief leave as he and Jamie restrain Zoe. He knows that most of the War Chief’s pleasure is derived from the fact that he believes he has, once again, been responsible for making The Doctor choose to betray one of his friends in order to save their life. 

-

This being said, the War Chief does not look very surprised when he returns and finds that he has been tricked, and the re-processing had been faked. The gaze the War Chief fixes on him when he is the one to start issuing orders makes him feel uncomfortable, as though he was being tested and has somehow passed. He does not want to give this man any satisfaction, and so he pays no mind to the War Chief’s arrogance – the man may still believe he holds all the cards, but he hasn’t realised he’s playing the wrong hand. There is a wildcard that is being forgotten, because it is one that every renegade knows never to play.

When the base is under their control, Zoe asks the question of how he’s going to return everyone to their own time.

“Yes…I’ve been thinking about that.”

(He could quite easily use his own TARDIS to repair the temporal displacement. It wouldn’t take long for him to mend the time streams and drop everyone off where they belong. But this solution would only solve the physical aspect of the experience for these linear beings. He does not have the ability to repair the mental damage that has been caused by the blatant abuse to their memories. But he knows the High Council does.)

“You can’t. You can’t, unless…” The War Chief suddenly eyes him apprehensively. The wildcard hangs in the space between them. “Doctor, you mustn’t call them in or it will be the end of us. They’ll show no mercy!”

(Oh, he knows that already. He can almost remember the devastation that awaits him if they officially apprehend him.)

“Who mustn’t you call?” Zoe asks in confusion.

“The Time Lords.”

Jamie asks “Who are they?” But that is not what he means. He is offering another solution. ‘Summon somebody else if you have to,’ he can almost hear Jamie saying, ‘I won’t tell anyone any different.’

But unfortunately this is not an option. These people need help, and the High Council can give it to them. (He can make sure that these hundreds of people receive the help that he never can, as one who can perceive the intricacies of Time.)

“I’m afraid there’s no alternative.”

“Don’t do it Doctor, you can’t!” The War Chief shrieks. “You know what will happen!”

Jamie’s eyes are filled with a horrified pain on his behalf when he confirms that he is calling the Time Lords. He doesn’t know whether Jamie is aware of what is going to happen, and he wonders if the other self that Jamie had met told him anything about why they parted. They speak to each other absently, not really paying attention to the words they used, because they are more focused on what they are saying silently. Jamie’s fingers fidget as though he wants to grab him and not let go, and he cannot bring himself to look at his friend’s eyes, so he settles for looking at the rest of him. The moment becomes so tense that none of the others who are present can bring themselves to interrupt.

But then he interrupts himself when he sees the War Chief has vanished, obviously trying to escape before the Time Lords arrive, and he races after the renegade, determined not to let him get away. He finds the War Chief dead, killed by the War Lord. (The irony of this does not go unnoticed by him. Well, at least the man won’t have to suffer through the trial that will be awaiting him. The War Chief’s regenerations were always silent and slow. By the time his appearance changes, the High Council will already have reached a verdict on what to do with him when he awakes.)

He turns to his companions as he prepares to send the message. “Jamie, Zoe, this is where we say goodbye.” (He tells himself that he must be content that this time, at least he has managed to say ‘goodbye’ to his companions, no matter what happens afterwards.)

“Now look, if you’re going to be in trouble, you’ll need me to look after you!” Jamie protests fiercely.

(“Keep an eye on the old gentleman will you?”)

He sends the message, and prepares to flee. Some of the other prisoners grow suspicious, clearly thinking on his last ‘betrayal’ and for a moment they attempt to prevent him from leaving. Jamie steps forward to intervene. His terror about what he has just done (and his impending imprisonment) finally gets the better of him. 

“For once, Jamie, do as you are told!” 

The way that he raises his voice startles everyone; he has never used that tone before in this body, and it is clear from the foreign way the words tear themselves from his throat. One man is angry enough, and unfamiliar enough, with him to step forward and threaten to shoot him if he flees.

“Then you will just have to kill me.”

(He wonders, for one brief and horribly morbid moment, whether that option would be preferable.)

He does what he does best – he runs.

-

The three of them are within sight of the TARDIS when the molecules of air around them begin to slow, their relativity to the surrounding time deceasing. He claws his way desperately through the force field towards the TARDIS. They clamber weakly inside and the TARDIS leaps into the time vortex; evidently she is as scared as he is.

“It is a fact Jamie that I do tend to get involved with things.” And with people. He wants to scream; he wants to pull his companions close and hide somewhere the Time Lords will never find any of them. If he is caught by the High Council, Jamie and Zoe will be punished simply because he cares for them.

(“The Time Lords erased your memory of the period you spent with me.”)

The TARDIS shudders as the vortex around them contracts.

“There is no escape Doctor.” A voice echoes serenely from the communications control, ignoring his distress. “You have broken our laws. You must face your trial.”

(THEY want to lecture HIM about BROKEN LAWS?!)

The controls move of their own accord – the TARDIS engines shriek in protest and defiance – but it is no use. They are being pulled back to Gallifrey.

(He thinks of One, who left, and the vow that he did not want to come back unless he was dragged back. He feels defeated.)

He leaves the safety of his TARDIS, and steps into corridors he has not walked in many centuries.

-

They arrive in the court room, where the small contingent of the High Council is waiting. He knows he should be somewhat comforted to hear that the Time Lords did indeed return everyone in the zones back to their own times, but he feels empty instead. 

(Though he does find it within him to feel some sympathy for the War Lord, who is present and suffering because the War Chief is indisposed; but then again, the man brought it on himself, so his sympathy is limited.)

“If I am guilty, then you are guilty too!” The War Lord shouts.

The War Lord suffers greatly for his insolence to the High Council – his entire planet is placed within a force field, suspended outside of Time, and he is dematerialised along with it, as though they had never existed.

And then his own trial begins. They accuse him of interfering in the affairs of other planets, and he declares proudly that this is true. There is no point in saying anything else; this trial is a mockery and a farce, something that is being played out for the benefit of the official records in the matrix archives. His interference is not really the reason for this trial, nor is it going to have any impact on their sentence. But, for the sake of the record, and for Jamie and Zoe, he puts forward a furious argument for himself regardless.

He shows them, via a thought channel, some of the evils he has battled, and is amused (but unsurprised) when his thoughts on black holes, unsafe time experiments and forbidden tombs refuse to display. So he uses the (second) most wretched evil in the universe as his trump card: the Daleks (second, only to the Time Lords themselves). His jury are not impressed, but his words are now on the record, for anyone who wants to see.

He wonders at the compassion of the Facilitator, when Jamie and Zoe are brought to see him again. He clings to his companions frantically, and for that single moment he can pretend everything is fine.

Then the moment is over and he draws back.

“Well, goodbye, Jamie.”

“But Doctor, surely we could –”

He shakes his head. “Goodbye, Jamie.”

Jamie’s expression breaks his hearts. “I won’t forget you, you know.”

“I won’t forget you.” He doesn’t know if he can bring himself to release his friend’s hands. They exchange some final half-hearted banter, pretending it isn’t the end. (A small piece of his mind reminds him it isn’t, for him.)

He turns to Zoe. “Goodbye Zoe.”

“Goodbye Doctor.”

The two of them clutch sadly at each other’s hands as they walk away from him. He feels anguish burn at his throat, but he refuses to break down in front of the Time Lords. A final wave, and then they are gone.

“They’ll forget me, won’t they?” He knows the words are true the moment they leave his lips, and he thinks it’s the fault of his next self, and hates his self for it.

“Not entirely.” For a second, he has hope. “They’ll be returned to a moment in time just before they went away with you.” At least they have been left that – their first adventure together – if nothing else. He should feel grateful, but he doesn’t.

“What about me?”

They decree that he is to be exiled to earth and that the knowledge of how to operate the TARDIS will be taken from him. And before he even has time to acknowledge and accept this sentence, they add injury to insult.

“Your appearance has changed before, it will change again.”

(They are going to force him to regenerate. There are no words for this horror.)

To distract him from his outrage, they offer him pictures of possible appearances he could choose. (He does not recognise any of the faces) He rejects all the images angrily. They grow weary of him, and decide to begin the process anyway, without his input. 

Everything grows dark around him as his molecules shift and change. Regeneration usually begins because the old body is dying; but his body is going to die because he is regenerating. His old body is going to be torn apart to make way for the new one. 

“No, you can’t do this to me!”

The TARDIS is being hurtled down the time vortex towards earth in the twentieth century. Something is wrong with her too – she SCREAMS – a tormented wail that sounds too much like the sound he had once heard in the Dark Tower, which has long haunted his dreams. It reverberates through his entire being, and suddenly his body fractures in much the same way that his mind often has in the past. The agony is beyond measure.

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

The TARDIS stops screaming as though its voice has been stolen, and the silence is even worse to endure. He is frightened for her, so much so that he forgets about himself for an instant, and that is when he is torn inside out.

(Polly, Ben, Victoria, Zoe. Jamie.) 

(Lethbridge-Stewart?)

-

The first thing he is aware of is the silence. The TARDIS is silent, and it terrifies him. He staggers to the doors, trying to escape this awful notion, and the moment he stumbles out, his new body gives way (the man he was had just been executed and he has been churned out to replace him). He collapses.

-

When he comes to, he is in an unfamiliar room (filled with beds; sterile, clinical) in an unfamiliar building (hospital), there are two unfamiliar beings (linear, humanoid, probably earthlings), and his shoes are missing. He needs to get them back, retrieve his key, or the TARDIS will be vulnerable. (The TARDIS! Where is it? Why is he here alone?) His panic makes the world turn dark again.

-

He is not sure how long he spends, drifting in and out of consciousness. There is so much noise around him, but it doesn’t ease the ache of the silence inside him. He wishes he could remember why everything feels so wrong, but he doesn’t dwell on it; regeneration is an unpredictable thing.

There is a voice that cuts through the noise – it is one that commands attention and action, one that is comfortable with giving orders, and expects them (for the most part) to be heeded. He knows that voice, and he respects it. He follows it into the waking world again.

“Lethbridge-Stewart?” The man’s face swims into focus. “My dear fellow, how nice to see you again.” The man looks at him, his expression baffled. “Don’t you recognise me?”

He asks for a mirror – wanting to see his new face – and one is offered to him by a young woman that he doesn’t know (and doesn’t remember either). He looks in the mirror and sees his new face. He remembers this face, and feels a lingering surge of distaste, left over from his previous self.

“Oh, no!” (He has become Three.) “Oh, no. Well that’s not me at all!” (But it is now.) He examines his new face again, as old impressions fade. “Oh, I don’t know. I think it’s rather distinctive actually.” (He must learn to like himself for his own sake.)

Lethbridge-Stewart – (The Brigadier!) – does not look very impressed by his babbling (as always), but before he can apologise for the instability that the aftermath of regeneration brings, he passes out again.

-

His regeneration is not beginning smoothly. He suspects it was because it had been forced upon him, and his body did not have time to prepare for it. He forces himself into a deeper coma to try and ease the transition. He will need his wits about him very soon he is sure. (Something tickles at his memories; something to do with his face changing and The Brigadier. There is trouble ahead. He cannot let the man down.)

-

He makes to escape the hospital when he awakes again, his mind now functioning much better than before. To avoid detection, he slips into a room marked “Doctors only.” (Is he still The Doctor?) He examines his new body – he has gained a tattoo, he notices with interest – and ‘borrows’ some clothes which have been abandoned. He inspects himself in the mirror. A touch flamboyant, he thinks, but it will do very nicely for the man he is now.

Once outside, he sees the row of automobiles. Primitive transport, but he is not in any position to complain. (The key for the TARDIS is missing, and he has been cut adrift. He is a wanderer without the ability to wander.) He chooses the vehicle which he believes in this time zone is referred to as ‘vintage’ and struggles for a moment with the controls. (Is this what is life has become now? A desperate attempt to grasp the simple and the quaint, because all his other options have been denied?)

Still, he admits to himself that the car rides quite nicely. He might want to acquire one in the future.

-

He finds The Brigadier swiftly (the only one he can trust in his vulnerable state). He turns and sees the TARDIS, nice and safe, tucked away in the corner of the makeshift lab that has been assembled. He is secretly irked at the thought that it had been stolen away from him. 

[Later, when he discovers that orders were given to guard the police box and not allow anyone near it, a clear gesture to protect it, he turns to the Brigadier and mumbles something indistinct but grateful.]

Words flow easily from his lips, and he realises that his new body has the ability to spill words like liquid, but the new cadence of his voice tends to make them all sound patronising. Oh well, he supposes that he will get used to it. He asks about his key – he is sure The Brigadier was the one to take it (for safekeeping, for insurance, but he is touched rather than annoyed). His memory is taking it’s time to adjust, trying not to overload his system again, so he decides he may as well focus on the problem at hand.

He is introduced to Miss Shaw. She is clearly a scientist, and he is overjoyed to meet a kindred spirit. She asks what he is a Doctor of, and his response is honest.

“Practically everything, my dear.”

He finds his gaze settles on the ‘meteorites’ that UNIT have been investigating. They are made of plastic. His mind is suddenly alive; there is a problem to decipher, an equation to solve and a mystery to unravel. His scientific nature has been captured intensely in this new body of his, and it feels natural to start listing facts and exploring hypotheses. He catches the astounded look in Miss Shaw’s eyes as the universe opens up before her (there is a pang in his chest as he thinks of other companions who have worn that look), and there is a wry, long-suffering exasperation in The Brigadier’s smile when he tells the man to go away and let him and Miss Shaw – Liz – get on with their work. Somehow, all these things make him feel more at ease in his own skin.

-

But the need to run burns deeply within him, so he cannot help but ask Liz to retrieve his key, and when he enters the TARDIS he immediately attempts to operate the console.

Something is wrong, very wrong. The TARDIS does not sing anymore, and he cannot remember what it is he needs to do to make her come alive and take flight. When the engines do attempt to start up, they are ragged and broken, as though the old girl has been impaled where she stands and cannot move though she still tries to so very hard. In the end, he cannot bear it any longer, and as she begins to smoke, he shuts the engines down.

(He wants to curl up beneath the console and weep in despair, for the both of them.)

He exits the TARDIS, and doesn’t know what the expression on his face looks like, but it must be so dreadfully haunted because while Liz is cross that she tricked her, The Brigadier says nothing.

“I’m sorry.” He says, feeling something inside him break. “It won’t happen again.” He has been left without the TARDIS to depend on. He feels so small and lonely. 

The Brigadier speaks. “I think I may be able to help you.”

Well. Perhaps he is not as alone as he first feared.

-

Something about the plastic disturbs him, and he knows that the answer is lost somewhere in his memories, but he does not want to rely on Two’s perception to help him solve the problem. He is The Doctor now, thank you very much, and he can solve this puzzle himself (and prove to himself that he still carries the right to bear this name).

He is extremely suspicious of the plastic facsimiles, but he doesn’t know why (and he refuses to remember). The answer dances just out of his reach.

Autons, he realises at last, Nestenes. And he had reached the conclusion on his own. 

(The memory flickers through his mind only afterwards, Brigadier mentioning the business with the autons, and he feels vindicated. You see, he wants to snap his fingers at his old selves. I don’t need to depend on you to know who I am. I am The Doctor.)

-

Once the invasion has been prevented, and they are all back in the lab, he gazes at his TARDIS. He feels panic grip his hearts, and realises he doesn’t know what to do. This is usually the point that he gets into his TARDIS and runs off into the stars, but she is grounded. They both are. What is he supposed to do with himself now?

The Brigadier stands beside him. “I hope we can count on your help again?” It is not really a question; it is a proposal, and he has never been so thankful to have someone in authority that he can turn to before.

But he can hardly let The Brigadier be aware of this, can he? Doesn’t want the other man to think he’ll just blindly follow orders like the rest of these soldiers? “I think we must discuss terms.”

Their eyes meet, both dancing with amusement. Both understand what is being left unsaid. 

Still, he is going to need something, not to replace the TARDIS because nothing can do that, but some mode of transport, so that when the need to move on, to travel, overwhelms him he can do something to sate it. He thinks of that vintage motor vehicle he borrowed earlier, and asks if The Brigadier if he can have something similar, and to his delight, the man agrees.

And so, just like that, he is employed as a member of UNIT.

-

When things are quiet, The Brigadier sits him down in his office, placing a drink in front of each of them, but neither of them touches it. His tone is gentle when he speaks.

“What happened, Doctor?”

And because he has no one else to tell, the vague overview of the events are dragged haltingly from within him. It is somehow easy, to explain away the underhanded methods of the Time Lords and how they have punished him. 

“Zoe and Jamie?”

He tells The Brigadier. He says the words quite steadily, but once they have left his mouth, the reality of his situation sinks in. He crumples and finally surrenders to his pain. The Brigadier, at a loss for words, leans forward and grips his shoulder comfortingly as he cries.

-

The next day, The Brigadier takes him car shopping. The yellow vintage vehicle catches his eye instantly. The Brigadier sighs.

“A bit conspicuous, don’t you think, Doctor?”

“Nonsense, old chap. I think it’s rather understated.”

“You would.”

He sits behind the wheel, and his memories suddenly shift.

(A mental conference is held between them. Men are missing, Bessie has disappeared, and they are under attack by an organism that shouldn’t exist.)

He grins up at The Brigadier. “I think I’ll call her Bessie.”

The other man sighs again, this time in resignation.

-

He doesn’t manage very long with living in linear time, before he starts to lose it. He knows that most of the base personnel have taken to avoiding his lab simply because he is sharp and irritable. He tells himself he doesn’t care what others think, but he always makes an effort to be pleasant when The Brigadier comes to see him. (It has not escaped his notice that these social visits have been increasing in frequency lately, and he does hope the man knows he is grateful, in his own way.)

But when Liz – Miss Shaw – decides very abruptly to leave, his mood takes a further blow, and he spends even more time buried in his TARDIS, trying to repair the old girl, even though deep down he knows it is pointless; it gives him something to do. He has found that his Third body is very driven, physically, and he constantly needs to be busy with something. The climate within UNIT has grown stagnant and as a result he has grown so very…bored.

He is in the middle of one such experiment when a young girl makes herself known, by promptly ruining his experiment. He tries not to be irritated, and refuses to look at her. This isn’t very difficult to do, with so much smoke in the air, but he still finds himself being too sharp with her. To his surprise, she doesn’t seem undaunted by his attitude.

“I’m your new assistant.” She declares. “Josephine Grant.”

(He has had plenty of time, during his exile, to work on his mental discipline. When he feels the shift in his mind that indicates something of One or Two is about to surface, he squashes it.)

He tries to be gentle. “How do you do, Miss Grant?” (‘Miss Grant’ echoes in his mind.) “I really don’t think you’re suitable.” (No one can bear to work with him for long anyway.) “What I need is a scientist.”

She mellows briefly, saddened. (He thinks absurdly of a mirror; he was young once, failing to measure up to the standards of others.)

-

He goes straight to The Brigadier to complain because he is annoyed (not because he is guilty) and the man has the gall to be amused by his protests.

“Liz was a highly qualified scientist.” He argues.

“What you need, Doctor, as Miss Shaw herself so often remarked, is someone to pass you your test tubes and to tell you how brilliant you are.”

(He hides his pain at this assessment. Liz was a very good scientist, by earth standards, for this time; but she was always overshadowed by him. He could hardly help that he has vast knowledge and a wealth of experience. He knows that sometimes she was bitter and envied his abilities. He wonders if he should have been more patient with her, but she would often grow aggravated whenever he tried to explain basic things to her. He thinks her decision to leave was far more to do with him than it wasn’t.)

He glares at The Brigadier, determined to make the man understand. He knows that The Brigadier has not assigned him a new assistant for scientific purpose, but for companionship. The Brigadier knows how lonely he has been feeling. “Well, it won’t work, Brigadier.” This poor girl will never find him to be agreeable company – most of the time, he doesn’t even find himself to be agreeable!

“Very well, Doctor.” Wait, what? “But I think that you should break the news to her yourself.” Scheming, irritating old man!

And suddenly she enters and approaches him, and he feels very uncomfortable with the way The Brigadier is watching him, trying not to smile.

“Miss Grant, I, um…” He clears his throat. “I, um…”

(The memory smashes through his barriers so suddenly it leaves him reeling. “I may call you Jo, mayn’t I?” “You’re only confusing my assistant.”)

He looks at Miss Grant. Closely. He remembers her face.

“Thank you Jo. I can see you’re going to be of great help to me.”

She beams. “Thank you, Doctor.”

The Brigadier doesn’t say a word, but looks smug. 

-

He is investigating when he hears the noise. That glorious sound that he had almost forgotten – there is a temporal messenger approaching and they have caught his attention. (But the noise makes him sad. It does not resonate within him as it once had, when he had been Two, and he wonders if this body of his has any musical capability. He has not yet attempted to discover that.)

The emissary sent by the Time Lords takes great pleasure in mocking him, expressing blatant amusement in his exile, before arriving at the point of his visit. “An old acquaintance has arrived on this planet.”

(He brings up a list in his head about who would merit the delivery of a warning, given how the situation would appear on the official records. He doesn’t think he is particularly vindictive, but if it’s the War Chief, he will have to accidently hurt the man.)

“The Master.”

Oh! Oh. Well. He hadn’t been expecting that. Why on earth would he come to earth? “All he ever does is cause trouble!” But that trouble is always greatly interesting.

“He’ll surely try to kill you, Doctor.”

His excitement immediately fizzles out. Oh yes. He’d forgotten that part.

“You are incorrigibly meddlesome, Doctor.” He’ll take that as a compliment. “But be careful. The Master has learnt a great deal since you last met him.” Excellent; a challenge worthy of his intelligence at last!

For the sake of keeping up appearances, he makes sure he insults The Master. The emissary doesn’t buy this though, because he is quick to retaliate by mentioning their cosmic science degrees. He fumes. Will everyone hold that against him? 

Before he can think of any suitable comeback, the emissary leaves. Frustrating Meddler. 

-

He doesn’t have to make The Brigadier aware of The Master’s presence on earth, but he does anyway. He wants The Brigadier to understand that the situation is very serious, especially if the Autons are involved, and he doesn’t know whether he will remember that when he finally sees the renegade. It has been quite a long time since they last saw each other (synchronously), and he thinks that it is probably inevitable that their banter is going to interfere with both of their plans.

-

They both play the game as easily as they always have. They lay pieces and puzzles for each other, rope each other in with plans that are overcomplicated or inconvenient, and lay deliberate traps that are actually very easy to escape from. 

(It allows them to pretend the rules are still the same. For a while, they can ignore that the battleground is now a vulnerable planet instead of a well-equipped lab, and that the losses at stake are human lives instead of the reputations of their classmates. And that this time, their own lives are variables in these equations.)

-

Just as he is making progress, the phone in his office rings. 

“Hello, Doctor, is that you?”

He doesn’t recognise the voice. “Who is this? What do you want?”

There is a pause.

“Simply to say goodbye, Doctor.”

Oh, of course. He should have expected that, he thinks, as the telephone cord tries to strangle him. (He really needs to learn not to offend The Master by failing to recognise him.)

Thankfully, The Brigadier comes to his rescue. 

(But the gratitude he feels is burned away not long after, when the man tells them they are going to send an air strike down on area where The Master and the Autons are lying in wait.)

-

He is working when the voice sounds out behind him. “Good afternoon, Doctor.” (Why must the man always sneak up on him like that? He always did harbour a flair for the dramatic.)

He turns, and then is surprised. The face he sees is not what he expected. (In his confusion, the memory flickers across the surface of his thoughts with ease: “Killing you once was never enough”)

“You’ve come here to kill me, of course?”

“But not without considerable regret.”

“How very comforting.”

They banter for a while about the situation, and they both enjoy it. 

The Master seems to almost brace himself. “Goodbye, Doctor.” He raises his weapon, but then Jo enters, and they both startle. (He thinks of their old lab, and The Rani, and is sure that The Master does too.) Jo panics, but he keeps his eyes on The Master. If the man had really intended to kill him a moment ago, then his timing was terrible. But if his timing was impeccable, as always…

“He’s not going to kill me.”

They exchange threats and ultimatums. It still feels the same, even if their words have changed.

“I’ve decided to let you live, Doctor. For a little while.”

He resists the urge to point out that he said that a few hundred years ago too. 

\- 

In the end, he and UNIT are victorious, but he gives the matter more weight than he usually would. The flaws in The Master’s logic were quite significant, and easy to exploit. He almost wonders if his enemy (his old friend) hadn’t been trying quite as hard as he maintained he had. He didn’t take much convincing to assist in betraying the Autons, even if it was to save his own skin. When they work beside each other, it feels exactly as it always had. Including the part where he had been talking and realised the other man had already left. (They invented the word ‘obnoxious’ to define that man, honestly.)

He catches up with the soldiers, and watches as The Master raises his hands in surrender and walks towards them. Then watches (in horror) as Captain Yates shoots him, and the man staggers and falls.

(He cannot breathe. He cannot think past the white noise in his mind.)

“Well that’s the end of him.” Yates says, satisfied.

He doesn’t speak. He stops beside the man and peers down at him. Then reaches down and peels the mask from the man’s face. Mr Farrel’s dead face is revealed underneath. 

He inhales slowly.

The Master escapes. But he can’t go far, not with the faulty dematerialisation circuit he stole from him. (He knows that The Master would have known that the circuit was faulty the moment he took it, but the man hadn’t said anything.) The Master is now stuck on earth, for a while, just as he is. He admits that he’s rather looking forward to their next encounter.

-

He is silent all the way back to UNIT HQ. Something in his face must be terrifying, because no one has attempted to speak to him, not even Jo.

He storms back to the lab and fiddles with some of his equipment, ignoring The Brigadier, who was the only one fearless enough to follow him. After several long minutes of tense silence, the man finally speaks.

“Well Doctor?” His tone is authoritative – he is speaking as the commander of UNIT (as his boss) and not as his friend. “Are you going to tell me what the problem is?”

“Problem?” He puts all the conceit that his voice can muster into his tone (it is far more than his previous two bodies have been able to do – he is spitefully glad), and doesn’t look up. “Why would I have any problem with the military mindset?”

“You always do.” That’s neither here nor there. “But you are never this hostile with your opinion.” (Hostile. The word curls tightly around his insides. The word has implications amongst UNIT, and he wonders if The Brigadier has used it deliberately for this reason, or if he has done it automatically, without realising the effect it would have.) “I think I’m entitled to an explanation.”

“An explanation?” He is shaking now. Memories of the injustice he has suffered over hundreds of years constrict around him. “Do you really need one? How many times do I have to express that I disagree with UNIT’s approach to shoot first and question later?” (The gun fires, the man falls.) “Captain Yates shot him!”

“We didn’t know it was Farrel –”

“Not him!” The words are torn from him without his consent. Driven by the need for action, he hurls the micron destabiliser he has spent the past four weeks meticulously constructing at the far wall and it shatters. The fact that he finds this satisfying sobers him slightly, but not enough to prevent the simmering anger from lacing his next words. “If it had indeed been him, none of you would have cared less.”

(The unspoken insinuation – “I do care” – fills the space between them and it is more than he can bear. He cannot admit that, especially to himself. It is a very perilous thing to do.) He braces himself against the desk and stares vacantly at it, trying to calm himself. (The Brigadier does not respond to the unspoken inflection, but it is clear that he is absorbing it, processing it.)

The Brigadier’s tone is still firm (still speaking as his boss) but it is clear he is being careful in choosing his words. “The Master is dangerous, you said so yourself. It is the responsibility of UNIT to take action against dangerous aliens, for the good of the earth.”

He looks up at The Brigadier. “Should I be worried then?” His tone is soft and measured; his anger has faded and he feels disembodied instead. “I’m an alien too remember. I can be dangerous, if I choose to be, and I don’t always agree with UNIT policies. That business with the Silurians, for instance; I was quite prepared to allow them to share this planet with you. Did you consider shooting me?” In an even softer tone, he adds, “I could have turned out quite like The Master very easily, you know.”

There is a pause. When The Brigadier doesn’t say anything, he continues to speak. “I understand the position you are in. But perhaps you need to think a little more about my position too. I’m stuck on earth, Brigadier, one alien surrounded by humans who are very hostile towards alien beings. I saw The Master surrender, he was unarmed, and he was shot. I admit the history between us makes my opinion on that matter biased. But consider this: I may work for UNIT, but if I was ordered to kill that man, I would refuse. And from what I’ve seen, the military only has one response to aliens who refuse to do as they want.”

He lets his eyes wander to the TARDIS, where it stands motionless in the corner. “I am very fond of the human race and I love this planet, but it isn’t my home.” (His home is broken and silent and grounded. She cannot save him from these humans if he makes a mistake; he can no longer flee into the stars. His exile is a punishment and he is weighed down with consequences. If he is not shot, he will be locked up and dissected, in the name of planetary defense and alien research.)

“I see.” The Brigadier’s tone changes – somewhere in the course of hearing that speech, he has become the friend again. “Well, I’ll see what I can do about making this place feel more like a home then.”

(The Brigadier doesn’t specify whether he is talking about the lab, UNIT or earth, but he doesn’t need to. It is the sentiment itself that is important.)

“And about The Master.” (He pauses, freezes, because this is the moment that will make him decide whether he is going to spend the rest of his exile hiding inside his TARDIS.) “As long as you’re around, Doctor, I don’t think he’s going to be much of a threat.” A pause. “I’ll be back at eighteen hundred to debrief you and Miss Grant.”

He cannot look at The Brigadier and waits until the man has left before he moves to clean up the mess he has made in his anger. For some reason, it makes him feel ashamed.

-

The Master returns quite often, waging war against him and UNIT, as if the man had nothing better to do with his time. He delights in thwarting his sparring partner at every turn, and is fascinated when he discovers puzzles that almost hinder him.

The Master is always intercepting other hostile alien parties and joining forces with them, rather than constructing his own schemes from scratch. When this point is brought up once in the lab and Mike comments offhandedly that The Master is either very lazy or unintelligent, he laughs.

“Captain Yates. If The Master wanted to take over this planet, it would be much more efficient for him to do it himself. And if he wanted to destroy it, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Then what does he want, Doctor?” Jo asks.

He shakes his head and smiles. The Brigadier watches him contemplatively.

-

After The Master’s latest plot fails, he is apprehended by UNIT. The Master appears unconcerned as he stands before them all, and indeed seems to think the whole thing amusing. But his fingers tap steadily against his wrist as he waits for their verdict. He finds he has inserted himself unthreateningly between his enemy and UNIT and speaks casually about nothing until The Brigadier turns back to give them his attention.

“What shall we do with him, sir?” Benton asks instantly.

“We should just shoot him and be done with it.” Captain Yates already has his hand on his firearm, waiting for the word.

He doesn’t speak. Nor does he move. The Master is still behind him.

The Brigadier meets his gaze. “Prison.” His tone is inscrutable. “Maximum security; that will keep him out of trouble.”

“But sir – !”

“That was an order, Captain! Sergeant Benton. Take the prisoner.”

“Yes, sir.”

-

He sets the file down on The Brigadier’s desk. It contains the detailed statistical analysis he requested, three weeks earlier than it was needed by.

“Thank you.”

The Brigadier glances at the file. “You’re welcome…to visit him if you want. I’ve cleared it with my superiors.”

-

He does visit. He doesn’t admit why.

-

The prison doesn’t hold The Master for very long anyway. The man gets too bored too quickly.

-

Sergeant Benton and Captain Yates barricade the door furiously. Jo is perched on a grove in one of the side panels as she peers through vents into the corridor. The Brigadier looks as though he cannot decide whether he is furious or resigned.

“Doctor!” Jo cries. “Zombies approaching!”

“My dear Miss Grant.” The Master says absently as he rewires the energy output on their makeshift generator. “They are not zombies, they are aliens called the Kaleeth from the planet Harûth in the Délfar region.”

“They look like mindless decaying corpses.” Jo retorts as she leaps down. “So I’m calling them zombies.”

“Doctor?” The Brigadier asks sharply, as the mindless horde grows closer.

“Nearly.” He reverses the polarity of the neutron flow within the power globe and connects it to the main valve. Both he and The Master jump when Jo screams – several appendages of decomposing flesh smash their way through one of the barricades and grope desperately in the direction of the two Time Lords.

The Master recoils violently. (He knows he is not imagining the flash of fear and revulsion he sees in his eyes.)

Captain Yates sneers. “Frightened of the zombies, your lordship?”

“Covering fire!” The Brigadier shouts as the limbs intrude further, and the two officers obey.

The Master holds out his hand and he places the sonic screwdriver into it reflexively, but he doesn’t let go when The Master tries to tug it away. His old friend glares at him defiantly.

“Are you?” He murmurs. “You never used to be.”

“Circumstances change.” The Master snaps, and he relinquishes the screwdriver when the next tug is insistent. The man is tense and the words are pulled from him bitterly as though he cannot help the confession. “I look at their rotting, decaying flesh and see my future. I’m unlucky number thirteen, Doctor, and the High Council aren’t going to make any concessions for me.” The Master sonics one of the couplings, increasing the capacity by three hundred percent. “My next death will be eternal.”

The Master tries to shove the sonic back into his hand, but he doesn’t take it until the man meets his eyes. “Rubbish.” He says confidently, and The Master is surprised. “You’ll have another body, old chap.” Then he hears himself add, “I’ve seen it.”

(He stands in the Tower, and then in the Tomb. There is a man with a new face and an old grin; a man who is mad enough – and desperate enough – to help himself to immortality.)

He shakes himself free of the memories. “You’ve never allowed death to defeat you.” He declares.

The Master considers this.

He looks up to see The Brigadier watching them and feels embarrassed. He hastily turns his attention back to his work and The Master follows suit.

When they activate the pulse that incapacitates the ‘zombies’ The Master surveys one of the still twitching bodies with a dark and self-satisfied smile.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Twiddles thumbs* May have implied that the unnamed Time Lord sent to ‘warn’ the Doctor was The Meddling Monk. *Twiddles thumbs some more*
> 
> I invented the species, planet, and galaxy of the zombie-aliens. But I’m sure that zombie-aliens do exist in the universe of Who somewhere.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The War Games; Spearhead from Space; (Doctor Who and) The Silurians; Terror of the Autons; The Sea Devils; The Three Doctors; The Five Doctors; The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	9. The Three Doctors (Three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!!
> 
>  
> 
> -

-9-

-

He hasn’t seen The Master in weeks – though he is not surprised by this. Things had gotten slightly out of hand and terribly complicated when they had last seen each other, and he is fairly certain the other Time Lord is sulking. He even managed, once again, to save the idiot’s life, and the man hasn’t even bothered to drop by to threaten (or thank or kill) him (so he feels that he is justified in sulking just a little himself). He is terribly bored.

(He is also very lonely. He is constantly surrounded by people – the soldiers of UNIT more often than not – but he cannot help but feel apart. Different. The loneliness creeps up on him whenever things are too quiet. He wants – he needs – someone around who understands, but also who empathises. None of his human friends can, for all that they try. They are too young.)

When the opportunity arrives to investigate another strange occurrence, he throws himself into the distraction eagerly.

-

Something about these events nag at him, and it irks him that he cannot pinpoint the reason for his unease. The disappearance of Mr Ollis, Professor Tyler’s research, and travelling faster than light; all of these things would make it a rather routine investigation for UNIT, but he cannot shake a sense of foreboding.

It is only when he sees the organism that he realises (or remembers?) the terrible danger.

“When I tell you to run, run. Right, run!”

(For a moment he forgets he is shouting at Jo. He thinks instead of Jamie, and his hearts ache at the mistake.)

-

They are in his lab, exchanging the latest information, and The Brigadier points out that “it would help if you were a little more forthcoming.”

(He cannot remember. He knows it means that it is happening again, because he cannot remember!)

There is not much he can give The Brigadier at this point, except for useful advice. “We don’t find it Brigadier. If we wait around here long enough, it’ll find us.”

(That fact is something he does remember.)

He tries to talk Jo into leaving when the reinforcements arrive – he knows that she won’t, because he remembers her from before they met – but he doesn’t want to put her in danger. It is, as he suspected, a pointless exercise, because suddenly they are under attack and trapped in the TARDIS. 

He is disgruntled because he is helpless, and he is irate because he has no other choice but to send the SOS. “I hate having to call them, but there we are.”

(It happened/happens because he sends the signal. If he didn’t/doesn’t send the signal, it never would have happened, but it did, and it is, and so he has no choice. He is angry with the situation, his tangled time streams, the Time Lords, and whoever is behind these attacks.)

(He takes it out on his other self.)

“You’ve got no right to be here!” He snaps. “What about the first law of time?”

(He knows he is being unreasonable and ungracious, but the man before him was caught and prosecuted, and the punishment did not end with a swift regeneration. No, the punishment has been his to bear. He looks at this man now and remembers a moment of panic and fear; Jamie’s name lingers in his mind. The Time Lords erased everything that Jamie had grown to be and all that they had shared. He wonders some days whether Jamie used to look up at the stars at night and wonder why he never left with The Doctor like he had wanted to do. His regeneration had been thrust upon him so quickly, that while he had mourned, he had never had the opportunity to hate himself for losing Jamie the way he did. But Three can hate Two for it. It isn’t fair, but it is all he can do.)

As they are bickering, One arrives. He is embarrassed at being caught, and feels further chastened when they are given the information they need. One has only just arrived and has worked out what needs to be done, while he is doing this for what is now the third time, and was acting too childish to pull his own weight.

Two pulls out a coin and tells him to call. “Hard luck.” He is not at all surprised.

-

He wants to berate Jo for her foolishness in following him into the black hole, but ultimately he does not. Their light-hearted exchanges raises his spirits, and he lets his anger settle down into a low simmer. (His other two selves will catch him up eventually he supposes. It would be best if he controls his temper when they do.) They stumble across Tyler and they all take a moment to reflect on their situation.

“Kidnapped and marooned.” He remarks. “But by whom?”

(He does not try to remember this time. To face the unrecalled threat, he will need to be focused on the here and now. He knows that trying to remember is not wise, and doesn’t question why.)

-

Jo is frightened. He does his best to reassure her. “Superior intelligence and senseless cruelty just do not go together.”

“I hope you’re right.”

(Neither of them mentions The Master. While he would find it somewhat comforting if this foe was as predictable as the renegade, he knows that Jo would not agree. It is a pity that he remembers enough to know it isn’t The Master, and this sort of thing isn’t his style anyway – he hasn’t even been threatened yet. But the thought of a vengeful Time Lord remains in his mind.)

-

“In the legends of your people, I am called Omega.”

His companions are taken away and he remains to speak with Omega.

Omega wants revenge on the Time Lords for the injustice he has suffered. “I was abandoned and forgotten!”

(He wonders darkly whether the Time Lords knew that Omega had survived the supernova; whether they left the revolutionary behind to suffer because he was different, and not worth the effort to save. After all, they had gained what they wanted, and the cost of one Time Lord is not such a heavy price to pay for the secrets of Time Travel.)

(He must tell The Master about this – he is sure to find the irony dreadfully amusing.) 

“And if I refuse to co-operate?” 

“Then…you will face the wrath of Omega. You, and those miserable humans who accompany you!”

They are not miserable nor are they the puny creatures Omega believes them to be, and he will protect them. Even against the likes of Omega. (Especially against the likes of Omega.)

Omega is distracted by the arrival of more company.

(Two is here.)

-

He tries to reason with Omega, to make him realise what the consequences of his madness would be.

“Then you would be utterly alone, forever.” (He knows how it feels, to feel that way, and he would not wish it upon anyone.)

“I am used to solitude.”

(He hopes that he will always have companionship, so that he never has to grow used to it like Omega has.)

But despite everything, Omega will not be swayed. “No bargains. Especially not with those who betrayed and deserted me.”

(He knows how that feels too.)

Then Two arrives, with Benton, and everything swiftly falls apart. (He blames Two, though he knows he shouldn’t.)

-

When they are imprisoned, he and his past self are both so infuriated that they begin to argue with each other. It takes a pointed intervention from Jo and Benton to shame them into silence. 

“I’m sorry. Perhaps I did speak a trifle sharply.”

He is offered a repentant apology in return.

When they are asked how this is all possible, they reply in unison. “The phenomenon of the singularity.” For a moment, he is distracted – overjoyed that for once somebody is able to keep up with his train of thought.

(Then he remembers that the one keeping up is his other self, and he feels inexplicitly lonely.)

He begins to despair. He does not remember whether they defeat Omega. There is no disputing that the man is one of the greatest all of his race, and he is just one Time Lord, even if there are two of him here at the moment. 

“He’s not all-powerful you know. Or else why did he need to bring you here?” Jo insists. “If Omega can will up an entire world, well, surely you two can will up a small door?”

This is why he loves humans. 

-

Omega finds them both in the singularity chamber. His rage is terrible.

“You dare threaten to destroy ME?! You wish to fight the will of Omega?”

“Yes, if I must.”

The battle against the dark side of Omega’s mind is overwhelming. Omega’s will is strong and he is faltering. All he can hear is Omega, shouting “destroy him!” The thought crosses his mind that he is losing.

(If he died here and now, with his younger self watching, would he have remembered it?)

“No Omega!” He hears Two shout.

And then Two is there, grasping his hand, pulling him up onto his feet, and he has never felt so grateful. (But he has never been good with words, not even for himself, so he directs his gratitude at Omega for stopping, and hopes his other self understands.)

And then Two starts prattling on about his foolish recorder again, and his gratitude dries up almost immediately. The bumbling fool is making Omega angry again. He tries to silence him.

“Just because you’re not musical!”

(It is almost an accusation, and it hurts him, but he cannot work out why.)

(He is, of course, lying to himself. He knows why. When he was Two, he had an exceptional talent for music – not just in playing it himself, but in hearing it in all things that surrounded him. The most glorious, the most important and beautiful sound of them all was the voice of the TARDIS. But now he is Three: the TARDIS cannot sing, and the music that was has become a void of soundlessness. He can hear nothing but silence. He hates it and himself.)

He rounds on Two. (His self-hatred is for HIM-self, but he will direct it all towards Two.) “What on earth do you think you are trying to do?” He hisses.

Two’s hushed response is serious, and the mask of flustered foolishness falls away easily. “Testing the limits of his self-control.”

(He is ashamed that he had to ask, because he should have known that. He used to be that man, and that was how he always played the game; it was better to let your enemy underestimate him.)

-

They both think of their friends, trapped in Omega’s world.

“We will obey you Omega.”

“We have no choice.”

But then they discover that they cannot take Omega’s place anyway.

“Your will is all that is left of you.”

Omega’s anguish is painful to watch. He does not know how to offer any comfort to him. But Omega’s will then turns to anger and rage once again, and is consumed by the desire to destroy. He and his other self flee, to find their friends, because they do not know what else to do.

(They should remember, but they can’t. They cannot help their friends, they cannot help Omega, and they cannot help themselves.)

-

“Let’s get on with it, eh?” One says.

One helps them find the answers. They are both reassured by his presence. (They may not say it, but they both miss being that man.) The solution is risky – they may not come out of it unscathed, but their friends will be safe.

“Three of them,” he hears the Brigadier say. “I didn’t know when I was well off.”

(A flash of memory passes through his mind of a tomb he has yet to stand in while in this body and he fights the urge to laugh. The Brigadier has no idea how still well off he is.)

(And then the recorder is found, and he berates himself for a fool when he remembers why it was so important.)

“Oh, no, not my recorder!”

“I’ll get you another one. I’ll get you a hundred, I’ll get you a thousand of them!” His tone is sharp and rushed, but the words are important. What he is really saying is ‘I understand – I remember why the recorder matters to you. We are still the same man.’

(Because as he says it, he realises that he means it.)

He turns to all of his companions. “You are all to do exactly as you are told.” He hopes that they all trust him enough to get through this, and listen, just this once.

(So many of his companions have unwavering faith in him, but they do not do as they are told. Do they trust him, or do they not? Sometimes, he cannot understand them and the contradiction breaks his hearts.)

-

Omega is trapped in this place, unable to ever leave it, and the demand is simple.

“Share my exile.”

(He is already suffering a forced exile.)

Jo panics when she realises he is prepared to stay if Omega frees the rest of them. She clings to him and begs to stay. 

“Jo, please. Trust me.”

She does.

He and Two only just manage to escape. It is a very close call, but they were prepared to risk that.

-

When the crisis is over, everyone is safe, and as One departs, he cannot help but feel proud of himself. (All of his selves.)

“It’s been so nice to meet me.” Two says cheerfully as he prepares to leave.

“Yes, I see what you mean. I hope I don’t meet me again.” He says this gently and with a smile. ‘I understand,’ he is really saying, ‘I remember what it felt like.’ And, ‘we are the same man, so take care.’

Two smiles back. He has heard what is unsaid. He leaves too, and this time it really is over.

He can always depend on The Brigadier to cut to the heart of the matter – “As far as I’m concerned Doctor, one of you is enough. More than enough.”

He quite agrees.

He sadly contemplates the destruction of Omega, and the loneliness and anger that consumed the Time Lord until he was nothing of his former self. “The only freedom he could ever have.” 

“It was either him or everything.” Jo points out, trying to comfort him.

(For a moment, he fears the future. What would he become one day, without these bright human companions? Would someone think the same of him? He hopes to never find out.)

The Time Lords have returned his knowledge of Time Travel! “They’ve forgiven me. They’ve given me back my freedom.” He has the ability to travel the stars again, and pure happiness swells in his chest like it hasn’t in such a long time.

(He uses the word ‘forgiven’ but it is not true. They are placating him. He does not know why, nor does he care. He has his freedom again, and that is all that matters to him right now. The TARDIS will be able to sing again!)

This time, his memories of the experience stay completely intact – the whole experience. For a short time, he is overwhelmed by recollections of helplessness endured by One, and the fragmentation of memory suffered by Two, but the potency of them fades. 

He wonders if he should say anything to them, if ever he sees them again. He cannot remember if he will.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -
> 
> Have a happy New Year!
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The War Games; The Time Monster; The Three Doctors; The Five Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	10. Echoes of a future past (Three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter; but there was so much that needed to go in it! Hope everyone had a lovely holiday period.
> 
> Special thanks to Aila, for all your lovely comments. *Beams*

-10-

-

He revels in his newly recovered freedom, but not to the degree that he had expected to. He leaps from star to star, from past to future, from one planet to another; but despite having the universe once again before him, he feels an overwhelming pull towards one particular time and place on his favourite planet. He blames the High Council – he is certain that they can be faulted for this. He wonders if they had manipulated aspects of his regeneration somehow, to ensure that his punishment lasted for the entirety of his period in this body, and was not just limited to the restrictions they placed on the TARDIS. He has always been very focused and driven as Three and it served him well when confined to his earth laboratory, but now as he is drifts through time and space, he feels the absence of a reliable supply of tasks keenly, and the lack of purpose fills him with frustration. He is a scientist – he needs to be productive, and sometimes his time travelling is…not.

He is nevertheless determined to enjoy his freedom, and continues to meddle in the affairs of the universe. (And if he sometimes interferes with events that will draw the attention of the Time Lords, just to make a point, just to spite them, no one else needs to know about it.)

-

But even though he is now a wanderer again, he cannot forget that he is – technically – still under the employ of UNIT; especially with Jo constantly reminding him that she too is an officer of UNIT and has responsibilities. So they do return to UNIT often, and he swears it is because of Jo. (He does not look at the man that he – Three – owes everything to as he says it. But even though he cannot meet the man’s eyes, he suspects that his friend knows anyway, because whenever they return, the Brigadier always manages a smile.)

(And when no one is watching him, he smiles too. There is something comforting about having a place to return to, to be surrounded by people that he believes care for him, and people he can trust. He has never really had that before in his long life, and he doesn’t have the words to express the warmth it gives him.)

\- 

The annual UNIT staff party is, according to Jo, something incredibly exciting and not to be missed, with lots of good food, fine wine, and great company. (He gets the impression that she is quoting second hand knowledge, as she continues to add that she has never had the opportunity to attend one before. He thinks she is trying to guilt him into complying.) He is dubious, but he can tell that attending would mean a lot to her, and so he finally agrees to accompany her; but only after he hears that the Brigadier will also be there. He has always avoided attending any of the social functions his human associates have put on in the past. He does not really have the disposition in this regeneration to interact casually and it is usually when committing a social blunder that those around him are reminded that he is in fact an alien, not an eccentric human being. There are still those within UNIT who are distrustful of him and his motives, who express anger and fear towards him, and he prefers to stay out of their way.

(They do not show their hostility openly anymore. Once, after a mishap with an experimental power core that melted all the weapons within a ten metre radius, he had been cornered by two unsavoury Colonels who proceeded to demonstrate just how unhappy they were with the incident. He had incapacitated them easily enough – eventually, as they had caught him by surprise – and Benton, who had witnessed the entire thing, had told him not to worry, and that he would take care of it. Two days later, the Brigadier had both Colonels transferred to a small research station in Wales.)

The party itself certainly appears to be extravagant – and if he is not the judge of extravagance then who is? – There is plenty of food, drink and conversation, just as Jo promised. He doesn’t take anything to eat from the table and declines the drinks offered to him, content to shift his company between Jo, Benton, and the Brigadier, depending on whichever of them is unoccupied. He spots Captain Yates once or twice, but doesn’t attempt to engage him as Mike is clearly enjoying himself, dancing with a different partner for each song. He makes a conscious effort not to mention anything scientifically related (as this is a party and no one wants to think about work when they are celebrating) and he does his best to instead engage in the social ritual of ‘small talk’ with his friends. They are gentle and kind towards his clumsy efforts, helping him along rather than mocking his ineptitude. 

Just when he is beginning to relax, tentatively discussing the superiority of milkshakes over thickshakes with Benton while Mike and Jo begin to dance, and the Brigadier moves to stand with them again, he feels a wave of nausea pass over him.

(A time ripple trembles its way through his very core and as it spreads, the civilised world around him falls away.)

He is so very hungry.

He steps forward towards the table, keen to partake in the cuisine on offer. (A small part of his mind notices that Benton and the Brigadier are both surprised and worried that he stopped speaking mid-sentence.) He finds himself starving, and is disgruntled at himself for not indulging sooner.

He begins to eat.

Six wings, a breast – with such tender flesh – and three thighs of gallus gallus domesticus; seventeen small sausages that have come from a Bos Taurus; Meleagris stuffing; and an entire pie containing diced bovine and the kidney of a sus domesticus, flavoured with onion and gravy. As he reaches for the samples of ovis aries, he falters.

(The ripple disperses, taking the hunger for animal flesh with it.)

He stands frozen for a moment as the weight of what he has just eaten churns within him.

(He is not an Androgum!)

“Doctor?”

He turns to Benton slowly, not really seeing either him or the Brigadier clearly through his unease. “I do believe I’m about to be rather ill.”

Both of them quietly escort him outside, and the Brigadier is the one who holds his head still while he vomits up everything he ate into the bushes. Neither of them speaks until his shaking subsides. Benton offers him a glass of water that he brought along, and he takes it gratefully, rinsing and spitting until he can no longer taste any meat.

“Why on earth did you eat so much?” Benton asks light-heartedly, as he inspects him carefully to be sure the sickness was over.

He is still trembling slightly, and the vulnerable feeling makes him angry at himself. “It’s all that no good, clumsy, musically obsessed little clown’s fault. He should never have allowed those fools to tamper with us in such a manner. This has been a disgusting and unpleasant experience and I will never forgive him for it.” He snaps waspishly at himself, since it is his self that he is blaming (as usual). Benton looks baffled, and the Brigadier looks equally confused, but he is also frowning as he considers the words that have been spilled.

The Brigadier helps him to his feet, and nothing further is said as they all move back inside.

-

The Brigadier is, without a doubt, a very close friend. He never questions this, nor does he have reason to. Whenever they are conversing on a personal level, their conversations are always filled with warmth and familiarity to counter balance any melancholy and sadness. They have an instinct for cutting to the heart of what lies beneath the other’s words, and are always willing to offer the other a shoulder to lean against.

Their professional relationship, however, is not quite as harmonious. The Brigadier is a soldier and he is a scientist. The Brigadier is a commander and he is an anarchist (or so it has been said on many occasions). But above all else, The Brigadier is in charge here and he has never been very good at following the rules.

He grows very frustrated with The Brigadier often; always fronting every situation with a closed mind and he knows the man has more potential than that. (He remembers standing with an older Brigadier, explaining the convoluted history of the Time Lords, and seeing the man consider their predicament with an open mind. If the man could do it then, he must be capable of it now!) Yet The Brigadier always stifles himself and remains within the military boundaries he is ordered to exist within.

So they argue often.

After a particularly disastrous aborted invasion attempt, The Brigadier tracks him down in the lab (which still seems to belong to him, even though he is rarely here to use it). It is clear from the way he throws open the door that he is angry, but that is perfectly fine by him, because he is angry too.

(Every single alien present on earth today had been ruthlessly slaughtered, no matter which side of the conflict they had belonged to. Every single one. Except for one very noticeable exception.)

(Moments such as these make him despise the fact that he always survives.)

The Brigadier gets straight to the point, immediately calling out the real problem that he has with what had occurred today, bypassing all the other issues that arose. “You were late, Doctor, as usual! I gave the order for those explosives to be detonated immediately, and you refused.”

(The man is apparently not going to mention anything about what he knew The Doctor’s personal position was during the altercation, nor the knowledge he concealed regarding the weaknesses of the attacking species. Not even going to labour on about the terrible mistake that he made which put both him and Jo at risk. No, this is – ironically – all about timing.)

“I was trying to preserve life!” He snaps. “Not blow everything sky high!”

“I gave you a direct order, and you disobeyed! That order was designed to save lives, human lives, and because you failed to act I lost two men out there today.”

(He knows this. He will never forget their faces, frozen screaming in death. But it also stings that it is only the loss of human life that troubles UNIT. Seventy three aliens died screaming today as well and he is the only one who cares; fourteen of them had been the aggressors in this conflict, and fifty nine of them hadn’t. He can see all of their faces too.)

“I’m not a soldier. If you wanted someone to stumble blindly in and detonate everything, you should have sent a soldier. You hired me as your scientific advisor, and I tried to find a scientific solution to prevent bloodshed!” He does not have to add that when he failed to find one, he did comply with his orders to save the earth – The Brigadier already knows this. “So give the guns to your soldiers, and leave me with the science!”

“I would, if I could trust you with it.”

The pain that hearing this accusation causes catches him by surprise and he lashes out without thought. “Are you saying my work is unsatisfactory?” He draws himself up – he has never been this tall before, and the height that he is able to reach is strangely empowering – and bristles crossly as he scowls at the man. “I have never shirked from the work here –”

“But you are not always here!” The Brigadier barks. 

And suddenly, there it is. And the truth of it feels like a slap across the face. 

But The Brigadier is not done. “You disappear off into the universe without a moment’s notice, dragging Miss Grant along with you, and when you return you expect us to follow your expertise while you declare you cannot understand how we are able to function without you.”

“You function perfectly well without me.” He says slowly. 

The Brigadier notes his change of tone, but does not relent. “Either we’re so incompetent that you need to stay and keep us in line, or we’re too authoritarian for you and you need to leave. You can’t pick and choose, Doctor, you don’t have that luxury; no member of UNIT has. We will deal with alien threats by whatever means we can to protect this planet, and I am not going to say that you are indispensable to that effort, since you have denied it yourself. Though I wonder how different that would be if The Master, or some such character, came calling while you were travelling the stars, leaving us defenceless?”

The seriousness of their conversation is highlighted by the renegade’s name. The Brigadier will never bring up that man in a discussion unless he is trying to make a point.

“How many times has The Master come to earth since I have regained the use of my TARDIS?”

The Brigadier is silent, because the answer of course is none.

“He won’t come to earth if I’m not here. I’m not going to bother explaining it, if you don’t understand that by now.” He holds up a hand as The Brigadier is about to speak again. He pauses, searching for the right words. He has avoided making long personal speeches since the one he had given The Brigadier the day The Master first arrived to challenge UNIT. But he will make an exception now, for The Brigadier’s sake, so the man will understand in the future. 

He speaks to his friend, not to the leader who stands before him. “UNIT is very capable of defending the planet, with or without my help, even if there is far more gunfire rather than the negotiations I would prefer to see. I live in hope. But twentieth century earth isn’t the only time and planet that I have to defend.” He sighs. “I belong lost in the stars, Brigadier, I can’t change that. But leaving UNIT permanently…I don’t know if I am able to do that yet. I come back because I must. It is harder than you can imagine, always being drawn back here. When I travel, I never look back, I can’t. But this body was born under a tether, and I can’t shake it loose.”

(For a moment, he shudders bleakly. He has never looked back before, not even when he started taking human companions and they began leaving him, and he discovered he missed them all terribly. But once he had had his freedom restored to him…he decided one night that he would, just this once, and he tried to find Zoe and Jamie. Just to check up on them. Just to make sure they were all right. And he found that their entire timelines had been locked up tightly by the High Council, to make sure that he couldn’t reach them. Only one day remained freely available to him, for both of them, for the rest of time, but he could not bear to go to it.)

“I need to leave. And I have to keep coming back. I never had a choice about that.” He glances instinctively at the corner where the TARDIS used to sit and keeps his eyes there. “I trust you’d tell me if I was no longer welcome here though. I’m sure I could find another military organisation to annoy until…” Until he has served his punishment in full, and regenerates again. Regeneration would purge the limitations the High Council encouraged within his current body. 

The Brigadier correctly interprets the nuance of his silence. His tone gentles, and his friend is speaking. “I would always welcome you back, Doctor.” He smiles wryly. “I would hate to be responsible for you bringing chaos to any other organisation, heaven forbid.”

The laugh that bursts from his lips startles him more than his earlier pain did, and for some reason, he feels the urge to cry in relief. (The Brigadier will always welcome him back.)

-

The next time he encounters The Master, the man is handing him over to the Daleks. He has never felt more betrayed before, even during the occasions when the man had actually betrayed him. Every Time Lord knew never to involve the Daleks in a game – they play far too well.

He spends every moment that he is not fighting the Daleks spitefully gathering anger at his old enemy (his old friend) and is determined to hold his grudge.

(When they had been mere children, labs had been decimated whenever they fought angrily. When they had been children, they used to apologise and make up afterwards, understanding that the need to vent existed, and they were close enough to lash out at each other without causing any real harm. Now, they are no longer children.)

-

He is happy for Jo, when she announces that she is going to marry Professor Jones. He truly is happy – she is a wonderful young girl who deserves everything she can get out of life – but his joy is laced with a bittersweet melancholy. He has been dependant on her companionship for such a long time and the loss frightens him a little. Since he has no longer been grounded to the earth, he has found instead he is bound to this time by people; his closest friends and associates – Jo, The Brigadier, Benton, Mike – and he is worried about how her leaving him will impact his restlessness. (If he leaves now, without any company, will he still want to come back? He has to continue to want it; otherwise the constant urge to return will be intolerable.)

But he does not let her see any of his insecurities. He does not want her to be sad when she should be elated. (He cannot bear another goodbye like Susan’s.) So when she asks him not to go too far away, and to come back and see them sometime, he hates himself, because he tells her he will, even if he doubts he has the strength to do so.

He gives them his blessings. He doesn’t have many words to offer either of them – he has never been good at human social conventions, for all his language skills.

“Don’t worry Doctor,” Jones tells him happily. “I’ll look after her.” He does not doubt this, as it is clear that the man adores Jo.

He drinks a toast to them and silently slips out as the celebrations begin. He’s never liked goodbyes. They make him think of all the others that have come before.

-

He stays on earth for some time, working for UNIT in the technically-still-his lab. He doesn’t mind the work. It is nice to be occupied, to feel useful, and it is much more enjoyable when he knows that there is a fully functioning TARDIS nearby.

Well, as functional as the old girl ever is, anyway.

Scientists begin to go missing and he takes this as a personal affront, determined to get to the bottom of the mystery. He does note, with great amusement, the length at which The Brigadier strings out the details, feeding him just enough to catch his interest until he demands to be filled in. He thinks that perhaps he has had a greater influence on his dear friend than either of them had been aware. (He is also very aware of the blatant statement that The Brigadier is making by involving him in this top secret operation: “I trust him to get the job done.” He is determined to succeed and prove – to them both – that this statement is deserved.)

So when the first scientist he meets, Rubeish, is swift to insult The Brigadier, his defence is immediate. He is slightly taken aback by how his hackles have been raised by such a slight comment and wonders if the man has been influencing him too.

(He would have the better end of the deal of the two of them, if that was the case. The Brigadier has always been a better man than he is.)

He is so distracted by his musings; he almost forgets what name he is supposed to give when asked for it. “Uh, Smith, Doctor John Smith.”

Rubeish turns to a young woman who is entering the room. “Miss Smith! Come and meet your namesake. Miss Lavinia Smith, Doctor, uh…”

“Doctor John Smith.” He repeats as he looks at the woman, and she looks back at him.

(Two sets of memories crash against his barriers simultaneously, and together they are enough to force their way into his conscious thoughts. “Sarah.” “It’s Miss Smith, isn’t it?”)

“How do you do, Miss Smith?” He shakes her hand. Lavinia? She is certainly not Lavinia Smith; she is far too young to be the acclaimed virologist. He wonders if her name is Sarah. But perhaps this is not the Sarah Smith he was thinking of; neither One nor Two had gotten a very good look at her, wherever they had been together, where those memories were from. He watches her closely, trying to work out if he knows her or not. 

He calls her out gently on her falsehood, and is impressed when she is prepared to try and explain. “I’m a journalist. Sarah Jane Smith.” Sarah! Her name IS Sarah; he was right! “Are you going to give me away, Doctor?”

He leans back and smiles. “I don’t think so.” He then pokes fun at her lightly, suggesting she should make him some coffee, and is delighted when she responds with outrage. 

(When he awoke as Three, he was caught up by UNIT before he could help it. When he had met Jo, she had been assigned to him, and cheerfully attached herself to him, before he had remembered. He has never had the opportunity to watch someone he knows will chose to travel with him arrive at the choice themselves before. And while she is easily infuriated by his temperament, it is clear that Sarah finds his dry humour refreshing, even it is levelled at her for the moment.)

This was going to be great fun.

-

Despite the seriousness of the situation, he cannot help but find his developing relationship with Miss Sarah Smith highly amusing. She is determined not to like him, but finds herself liking him anyway. She is strong willed, sharp witted, and highly curious. Nevertheless, he is relieved when he finally manages to convince her that he is not the perpetrator and she agrees to assist him with rescuing the scientists and stopping Linx, the Sontaran Commander, who is kidnapping them out of time.

(Another Sontaran, meddling with time traces. If the situation had not been personal before, it most certainly is now. He remembers the hunger that had overwhelmed him during the UNIT party, and now that he can think on it objectively, his anger at Two has faded. He cannot remember anything that occurred very clearly, but he knows that Two had tried to scream and found he couldn’t. He remembers being afraid for himself – and all his other selves. He could not defeat Stike when he was Two, but for Two, he swears he will defeat Linx.)

-

When Linx is defeated, he knows that he would never have managed it without Sarah’s help, and he thanks her profusely. He does not explain to her why he is so gratified to have successfully rescued each and every scientist and ensured that there was no lasting damage caused by the tortures that Linx subjected upon their minds. Sarah can see that the care he has taken to guarantee both of these was genuine, and she (for once) asks no further questions about it.

But he makes certain that he asks her plainly whether she wishes to travel with him. He does not want her to accompany him simply because she feels obligated to do so, or because he has always assumed she will. Nor does he want to feel that he has anticipated her company because he knows that she will become his companion, and therefore gives her no choice at all.

He asks her because he truly does like her and would very much like for her to stay. And when she does not hesitate to accept, smiling happily, he knows she has agreed because she wished to. He smiles back at her warmly. He feels (he FEELS it – he does not know, or remember; he does not let the shadows and echoes of the past and the future touch this moment – he FEELS) that they will become very good friends.

-

Still, he supposes he has a responsibility to UNIT (not that he is ever admitting that, ever; if The Brigadier found out he even considered the notion, the man would never allow him to forget it), so he makes sure that the first place that he and Sarah go is back to earth, because he feels that at the very least he should inform The Brigadier of his intention to travel some more, and Miss Smith’s resolve to accompany him.

They arrive to find London emptied of people…and instead infrequently populated with dinosaurs. Dinosaurs! He is delighted and excited, never having seen dinosaurs in such a modern setting before (naturally), and when The Brigadier finally catches up with him he is actually enthusiastic about the progress they have made on containing the situation. He has managed to remember that the dinosaurs don’t belong in the same realm as man, after all. If the humans are not eaten or squashed, they will no doubt have a heart attack from the shock alone before the month is out.

He gets straight to work, ignoring his irritation that somewhere there are stupid stunted little minds who have no idea what forces they are meddling with by manipulating pockets of time AGAIN, in favour of being irritated at the narrow minded General Finch, who seems to be in charge of the operation. He is grateful for The Brigadier’s silent support of his ‘outlandish’ theories because time travel is ‘impossible’ and begins conducting a device that will help him locate where the time traces are stemming from.

Mike stays to supervise him, and for once is graciously attentive; asking questions and offering interest, even if it is slightly cautious. He is rather touched, as Mike has never been particularly concerned with any of the real (temporal) science that he works with before, and he offers his friend information freely, even if the mild interruption is distracting to his work. When their conversation ends smoothly, with no fault on either side, he is irrationally pleased. He has never been talented at conversing with the soldiers of UNIT, but he occasionally makes an effort (he tries so very very hard) for those he is more closely associated with. Mike has never really reached out to him like this before, and it gladdens him to know that their relationship is still solid.

-

His stun gun doesn’t work, even though it should, and the T-Rex is bearing down on him. The Brigadier is shouting for covering fire, but it is Mike who throws himself forward valiantly, retrieves the fallen stun gun and aims at the dinosaur. Thankfully, this time, the gun works and Mike crosses back to his side. Words of gratitude stick in his throat, to know that Mike put himself at risk in an attempt to use a piece of equipment he had just seen fail to work in order to save his life.

He has always been a little frightened at the depth of the regard that he has been developing for these colleagues of his. Ever since Liz had left…he had been worried that his fondness for these human associates of his ran deeper on his part and was not truly returned by any of them. Jo and Sarah have been quite affectionate, he will not deny that, but he has missed the camaraderie that comes from the bond with another who has chosen to live fighting for their beliefs. (He still misses Jamie, but he cannot bring himself to think of his young friend, the pain is too great.) The Brigadier, of course, is always there, but the man is so often required to be his superior, and their relationship is rather complex. But the simple brother-in-arms type relationship that he has with Benton and Mike have always been the ones he tries hardest to work on, the ones he has always been most uncertain of. And he always appreciates any sign that either man values their friendship.

But something concerns him greatly. He inspects the stun gun carefully when Mike returns it to him. He doesn’t understand why it didn’t work when he tried to fire it earlier. He cannot afford to make any errors – his friends lives could be at stake.

-

And then, after Sarah is almost killed, a dinosaur is deliberately unleashed, and his machine has been sabotaged, he realises an unpleasant truth. “Someone inside this organisation is working against us.”

There is nothing he can do, except struggle on against the authority that is seeking to oppress him. He will keep his trusted friends close, and his suspicions on everyone else. He knows how to spot power hungry minds seeking to further their ambitions, and he knows that one of those sorts is behind this.

Especially when he is suddenly accused of being the culprit and is promptly placed under arrest.

It hurts that The Brigadier is the one to say it, and then says nothing else while he is escorted back to UNIT HQ to be locked away in a cell (a cell, not a lab, not to be tortured, dissected and analysed, things haven’t gone that far yet). He accepts the man’s silence, because he knows the man is under orders from General Finch, but it hurts further still when The Brigadier leaves him under guard of Captain Yates and goes with the General without meeting his eyes. (But The Brigadier’s marked hesitation and his almost forthright displeasure with Finch reassures him; his friend surely knows he is not to blame.)

He turns to Mike, but Mike won’t look at him either, and the Captain orders Sergeant Benton to lock him up. And when he immediately grows defiant and authoritarian at Benton’s utter confusion, a horrible thought pierces him.

It always burns when he finds the ones in power are being supported by the quiet and desperate souls who are bound by a life they do not want and are constantly, sorrowfully, searching for a way to explore their desires, to bring something greater than themselves to light and to cling to it reverently because they feel they have nothing else to offer.

(He is one of those such souls, he always has been, but he has never given himself over to the demands of a greater power. He has lost once dear friends who were also of this nature in that way, and when he sees the demons they have lost themselves in during the mangled pursuits of their once cherished dreams, he always grieves for the good friends they once were.) 

“So it was you Mike.”

The interest in his work: wanting specifics of the results and not the method used. The stun gun: not working after Mike handed it to him and then working once again after Mike had retrieved it. His experiments and equipment: sabotaged by someone who had unquestionable access into his personal space; because that person was known to be a close associate.

(All of his life, he has been betrayed. Betrayed by friends he held dear during his youth; betrayed by the hierarchy and the authority of his own people. And now, he is betrayed by his new human friends.)

“I’m sorry Doctor.” And then Captain Mike Yates is gone.

(He feels cut adrift in a way that the vastness of space has never made him feel before. He is dependent on stability in this body, curse the High Council for their meddling, and he had not realised how desperately he had been clinging to the fragile life he has built for himself at UNIT until now. Something inside him breaks – he is frightened as he has not been since he first realised that the TARDIS was shackled to this time and place. Liz left, Jo is gone, Sarah is missing. The Brigadier is constrained by the General, Benton has been given orders, and Mike has betrayed him. He is alone.)

(Alone.)

As Benton issues swift instructions to the other soldiers, who clear out to obey, he is almost resigned to his fate.

Benton checks that they are alone. “All right Doctor, what’s going on?”

His voice does not tremble when he identifies Yates as the one who has betrayed them. 

“What about The Brigadier?”

“What indeed?” But – no. No. He cannot doubt The Brigadier. The man is merely following orders. That is all that is happening here. The Brigadier…The Brigadier would never betray him like this. 

But Yates has, and the betrayal has shaken him. If he has misread Yates so severely, is it possible he has misread all these soldiers? What if The Brigadier…they argue often, but…his old friend would never…never…

(But he has desperately tried to believe that about other old friends before too. And apparently, his human friends do not value his friendship as highly as he had thought.)

“Right then, Doctor.” Benton says briskly. “You’d better get busy.” He turns to Benton in bewilderment. “You better start overpowering me then, hadn’t you? You know, a bit of your Venusian oojah?”

He feels a warm and genuine smile spread across his face, but it is nothing compared to the warmth spreading throughout his chest. (He is valued and appreciated after all. Benton has nothing more than his word as evidence, and the man believes this to be enough.) “Thank you, Sergeant Benton.” He says this with all the affection he is able to muster.

The gentleness he uses while rendering the man unconscious conveys the sentiment with greater volume than his words did. 

-

No matter which face he wears, or which planet he is on, he somehow finds himself always being hunted by soldiers. He doesn’t know whether he should be troubled by this consistency, or reassured.

-

Finch finds him, and he wonders whether the man will set another dinosaur on him, or simply have him shot. But even as he finishes the thought, Brigadier and Benton arrive, and The Brigadier insists The Doctor is his prisoner.

“Get out of my way.” Finch’s threat is clear.

All The Brigadier says in response is: “Benton.”

Benton rises, with a machine gun, and levels it straight at Finch’s chest.

“You realise this is mutiny?” Finch is beside himself with cold fury.

“There’s no question of mutiny, sir.” The Brigadier’s tone is assured. “I’m only doing my job.”

(He hopes that their friendship is as true as he has always believed.)

“I’m holding you responsible for him.” Finch’s parting threat is also clear: The Doctor’s fate will be the same as your own. But neither of them listen to the threat, instead they hear only the words that are spoken. Somehow, The Brigadier has always taken responsibility for him, and this thought comforts him.

Their eyes meet. “Coming, Doctor?” There is a smile on The Brigadier’s face, that wry and slightly exasperated one that the man always wears when he fondly thinks The Doctor is behaving like a child. It is that smile that makes him truly believe.

-

Quietly, as they arrive back at UNIT HQ, he asks Benton if his ‘escape’ caused any problems for him, and Benton smiles at him. “The General was furious, and demanded every soldier we had was to be sent to search for you immediately and shoot on sight. Once he was gone, The Brigadier told me to put myself under arrest and find you before Finch did.” And he finds himself laughing at Benton’s recount and takes great solace in the sound. (He will never have cause to doubt The Brigadier’s friendship again.)

And suddenly Yates is there, pointing a gun at The Brigadier, whose face has gone slack with disbelief and disappointment, and then at Benton, who backs away slowly, bitterness in his posture. He feels his chest contract tightly as he watches. He can endure the anguish of betrayal himself if he must, but to see the pain in the eyes of his friends – that he will not stand for.

So he does what he does best in this body. He talks about all the science that has been involved. Once he has gained the Captain’s complete attention, he makes his point. “I understand your ideals. And in many ways, I sympathise with them. But this is not the way to go about it, you know.” But he can see the same look in Mike’s eyes that he has seen before on the faces of others. Mike has lost himself to the cause, and will not be swayed. And so, even as Benton grapples the weapon off Yates, he takes a moment to grieve for the friend that Mike had been.

-

When the emergency is over, and he has finished bantering with Sarah about her (fictitious) resistance to more TARDIS travelling (and she promptly races off to pack herself a proper bag), he tracks down The Brigadier in his office. Benton takes one look at the weariness on his face and immediately makes himself scarce, insisting he will follow up on the reports The Brigadier needs personally.

The Brigadier surveys him carefully, and he knows the man has anticipated what is coming.

“I need to leave.” He says softly. (The ache of betrayal stings at him. There is a painful silence that echoes around him that he hasn’t felt this keenly since he regenerated.) “I need the stars for a while.”

“I understand.” Understands why he is driven to leave now. The Brigadier knows much about the trial and the punishment and the betrayal he suffered at the hands of his own people. But more than this, The Brigadier understands the grief that lingers on after loss. (Mike was The Brigadier’s associate too, and he has offered Mike a chance to resign quietly, instead of facing a court-martial like Finch. The Brigadier is also saddened by what has occurred.) The Brigadier understands that he needs space and time, to think on what has happened. (The Brigadier understands that he is frightened, because they both know, deep down, that he will never be able to feel the same way about UNIT again.)

He would have left anyway, but somehow it means a lot to him to have The Brigadier’s acceptance. He turns to leave.

“Doctor. Will you come back?”

He pauses. But it is not UNIT he thinks of when he answers. He thinks of a Colonel he met when he was a younger man. He thinks of an older man who has always said he is a wonderful chap, no matter what face he wears. He thinks of the man, sitting at the desk behind him, to whom he owes everything.

“Yes. I will come back.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three ate chicken, beef, turkey, and a steak and kidney pie (pork kidney), stopping before he had sheep/mutton. All the scientific names were simply sourced from an encyclopaedia, and I hope I’ve used them accurately in context. If not, it’s just because Three was too overwhelmed by the Androgum genes to get his science correct. 
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The Dalek Invasion of Earth; The Web of Fear; The War Games; Spearhead from Space; The Three Doctors; Frontier in Space; The Green Death; The Time Warrior; Invasion of the Dinosaurs; The Five Doctors; The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	11. The Five Doctors (Three)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three self-hates again, a lot. And, as usual, takes it out on Two, whoever he has on hand, the Time Lords or his other selves (most of the time in that order) before he turns on himself. Depressing and somewhat self-destructive thoughts ahead (but that’s nothing new).

-11-

-

The man places the Second major piece down carefully, easing it into place beside the First, and then surveys the Time Scoop again.

The Game continues.

-

He doesn’t return to earth (to UNIT) until Sarah asks him to. The pull to go back still exists and he doesn’t fight it, even if he is slightly concerned (worried, and perhaps even a little frightened) about his reception amongst the soldiers within UNIT given what he had been accused of the last time he was there. They have never been very fond of him (and Captain Yates’s betrayal lingers at the back of his mind). There will always be a strong bias amongst those human soldiers to believe that the presence of any alien intelligence, no matter their intentions, is a threat to humanity. He must have hope that one day the human race will outgrow this prejudice, but he knows it will never happen in the twentieth century. And UNIT are very aware that he is the most intelligent of all the aliens they have yet encountered. And he knows that they have long been suspicious of his priorities and loyalties. (All that past business with The Master didn’t really help this situation.) He is as inflexible in his beliefs as UNIT is unyielding in their authority, and sooner or later something will have to give.

(He knows deep down it will not be UNIT. And that as long as he is Three, it cannot be him…but he will not always be Three.)

He parks the TARDIS out of sight five blocks away, telling Sarah that a brisk walk is precisely what they need. When they are just around the corner, he pretends to have difficulties with the portable temporal distortion detector he is working on and asks her to go and fetch Bessie, quietly, because they don’t really want to deal with the interruptions and fuss that their return will herald until after she has gotten that story, do they? Sarah doesn’t question any of these remarks, giving him an understanding smile and waving her hand dismissively as she walks on. He fiddles idly with the detector until she returns.

(The detector has never worked and it never will. It was something he had cobbled together not long after he had fled from Gallifrey, just in case. But it had always been just for his peace of mind: any distortion caused by the Time Lords would reverberate on a massive scale, and there was never enough capacity in a portable unit to filter out the power that would be generated as a result. He does not even know why he had felt the urge to dig it out today, and nor does he think it is wise to linger on puzzling out why.) 

Sarah returns in Bessie and they drive to the Institute that she has been eager to investigate while he continues to brood over his detector. Apparently there has been some ground-breaking work in cellular restoration that could help rejuvenate endangered species of flora, and one of her contacts managed to arrange special access for her to view the first samples. He has not yet decided whether he is going to accompany her – the term ‘cellular restoration’ makes him think of regeneration and he is not in the mood to think on his past (or future) selves. But the research does sound fascinating and, for the future of earth, he hopes that the trials have been successful.

They pull up and Sarah hops out. “So, are you coming in then, Doctor?” 

He is prepared to say yes. “No.” The answer leaves him smoothly and he is troubled (alarmed and disturbed) by the ease at which it did. He quickly gives Sarah an entirely fabricated justification: “I’m going to have to reset all the base parameters on the detector.” (He wants to get back to the safety of the TARDIS immediately, and he doesn’t know why.) “A quick link up with the TARDIS console should fix it.”

Sarah laughs as she slings her bag over her shoulder and starts towards the campus. “Don’t fly off anywhere without me!”

A shudder travels down his spine as he replies. “I won’t.”

-

The sight of the distortion does not catch him by surprise this time. He has felt the memories of One and Two stirring beneath the surface of his thoughts, and suppresses them like he always does, but this time they are accompanied by a strange echo of emptiness. (There are more of them now, more than just Three. He is now in the middle again, when he had grown used to being the Latest. It irks him.) The distortion still fills him with the same horror as before. He remembers enough about it to know that he does not want it to touch him again, and he puts the accelerator to the floor, jerking the wheel around fiercely.

For a moment, he thinks he has escaped (for once). “Good old Bessie.” He has barely finished forming the words when he feels it wrap around him, and he relents to the inevitable resentfully.

-

He clings to Bessie’s doorframe and dashboard gingerly as the distortion releases him, determined not to succumb to the weakness that his other selves had. He holds his mental barriers firmly in place as the – wrongness – tugs and tears at him, but he holds himself together and the sensation passes with only a light feeling of nausea. 

He does try not to be smug. (He vaguely remembers the shakiness that had settled in One’s mind and the shuddering that wracked through Two’s body.) But really, perhaps the others should have just tried a little harder. He always knew his self-control was far superior to his other selves. (He ignores the treacherous voice at the back of his mind – and the way it sounds like One – which pointedly reminds him that he had perfected his control because he had nothing else to do in his exile, and wanted to protect himself from such vulnerabilities.)

He does not take notice of the slight tremble in his hand as he shifts Bessie into gear. (He ignores it, and ignores the self-depreciating laugh in his mind that sounds like Two, and an old accusation that burns at his hearts: ‘Just because you’re not musical!’.)

He drives along for a while, unnerved by the silence around him. (He does not have Susan to speak to, nor The Brigadier to banter with.) He knows that there are other lost selves wandering around out here somewhere, and he supposes he has to find them to fix this mess. He pulls over to get his bearings. He doesn’t think he recognises this area, so his other selves must not have passed this way before.

A familiar scream pulls him from his musings.

He pulls a rope out, secures it to Bessie and throws it down the unstable hillside that she had tumbled down. Once Sarah has made it to the top, she laughs in relief and professes how pleased she is as she turns to look at him. Her expression quickly turns confused.

“Wait a moment. It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me.” Why is she staring at him like that? “Hello, Sarah Jane.”

“No, no, but it’s you, you.”

Yes, because that makes so much sense. “That’s right.” Honestly, what was it now, his clothes again? She hadn’t said anything about them yet… (His stomach lurches unpleasantly: her clothes are different, and her eyes are slightly older.)

“No, no you changed, remember?” (She’s going to be there for it.) “You became all, uh…um…”

(He is One, and then Two, and they have found information on Four. He cannot remember what it is, but his impression of Four has been – ) “Teeth and curls?” (He brushes the memory aside.) “Yes, well, maybe I did. But I haven’t yet.”

Sarah is still slightly confused, but he is not in the mood to discuss the intricacies of temporal displacement. He instead begins to explain to her what he does remember about their situation. He realises (with irritation) that he cannot remember as much as he hoped he would be able to. (He blames his past selves, and their inability to have clear memories to pass to him.)

Sarah brushed some lingering traces of dirt from her clothes. “K9 warned me about the danger.” She moaned. “I should have listened. But really, ‘The Doctor is involved,’ and I thought, I haven’t seen you in years, so it must all be nonsense.” He misses a gear and she laughs at him for it, teasing him good naturedly, her spirits somewhat restored.

(He feels a coldness grip him. Sarah is no longer travelling with him. Sarah leaves him.)

He changes the subject. They must not discuss this at all; it is dangerous to know too much about your own future. (He does not want to know why she leaves him. But at least he can be consoled by the fact that she is still alive.)

-

He explains to Sarah about the games, about Rassilon and the Time Scoop, in a disinterested manner. The explanation comes easily enough (because he had given it before) so he doesn’t give the situation much thought beyond the fact that he knows he has to get to the Tower. Sarah asks why the ones responsible won’t tell them why they have been brought here.

“Because they delight in deviousness, that’s why. It amuses them.” He cannot remember who IS responsible, but the word ‘renegade’ rings in his mind (it sounds like One) and an old anger at injustice burns (it feels like Two). 

“Doctor, wait!”

He screeches Bessie to a halt and twists around to see the man who has heralded him.

“Who’s that?”

“I don’t know.” But he has suspicions. “No, it couldn’t be!” He looks closely at the man as he approaches. The smirk on his features is forced and there is a sense of resigned exasperation in the line of his shoulders, as though he is disappointed by his presence. 

(An old grin, as easy as pi, and dark eyes that burn so angrily)

“It really is you. I should have known you’d be behind all this.” The Master raises an eyebrow, coldly amused by this declaration, and the sight ignites a fury within him. “That’s my best enemy. He likes to be known as The Master, don’t you?” He watches as the man’s lips purse slightly and knows he is trying to pinpoint where he comes from in their respective time steams. “My, my, my, but you’ve changed. Another regeneration?” (This makes him think of mindless decaying corpses, a moment that they shared together, and it makes him angry. The last time he saw this man, he handed him over to the Daleks! He has not forgotten that, and the grudge that he has held over it simmers inside him.)

“Not exactly.” The Master’s tone is almost soft.

(Had their time streams aligned slightly differently, this conversation had the potential to continue without an argument. But this Master must be used to a Doctor with a gentler temperament, and this time it is he who acts as the aggressor, burning with the fires of a harboured betrayal.)

He throws the accusation at The Master, for being responsible for bringing them to the Death Zone, and to his surprise the man shakes his head.

“For once, I am innocent.” The Master seems rather baffled by the way those words sound. “Here at the High Council’s request, to help you…and your other selves.”

But he is too angry, (angry at the Time Lords, as always, angry at his other selves, angry at The Master) and refuses to reach out to The Master today. He is deliberately cruel with his scepticism and lashes words at the man with the intent to wound. The Master’s eyes linger over him as though he is trying to remember how to anticipate him. The Master clearly hasn’t seen HIM in a long time. (Sarah doesn’t know who The Master is. He won’t see The Master again while Sarah is with him.)

When he continues to dismiss every (valid sounding) point The Master offers, the man steps closer and his tone is laced with a dangerous undercurrent. “If you will only listen, I’m here to help.”

“You? Help me? Rubbish.” He glares at The Master long and hard. ‘I’m angry with you’ is conveyed, ‘you’ve hurt me, and so I’m going to hurt you,’ but neither of them are children anymore, and there is bitterness seeping into his glare that never used to be there. He will not fall into another trap so soon.

The Master gets angry in return (but for some reason it is hard to tell who he is angry at) and he retorts irritably. “I knew this was going to be difficult, but I didn’t realise that even YOU would be so stupid as to make it impossible!”

A thunderbolt shoots down from the sky and interrupts their exchange.

He had almost been about to start bantering with his (old friend, but he is too angry, and so instead the classification in his mind remains as) enemy. He shifts Bessie into gear furiously, and Sarah grasps at him in shock and disbelief.

“No, we can’t leave him!”

“You just watch me.” 

He refuses to look back as he drives away, even as he hears several more thunderbolts strike down.

-

He and Sarah continue along on foot when they reach the base of the mountains. They catch sight of movement in the landscape beneath them, and he peers through the gloom. Cybermen. He isn’t at all surprised; the man has no scruples about dealing with Daleks after all. It is easy to imagine his forming an alliance with Cybermen too. (Almost as if he remembers.)

“So,” he frowns, “The Master has used the Time Scoop to bring others as well as us here.”

Sarah doesn’t comment, she knows better than that after watching their earlier exchange, but her silence speaks for her disapproval quite loudly.

(He knows in his hearts that he is being unfair to his old friend. But unfortunately, another prevalent aspect that is entrenched into his character as Three is the inability to admit when he is wrong. To do so would feel too much like Two, and he refuses to do anything to remind himself of that clown.)

-

There are three ways into the Tower; above, below, and the main door. He plans to enter above. It is a slightly overstated approach perhaps, but the best way to infiltrate the Tower without being followed.

(He also knows that it is the opposite of what Two would do, and he chooses it just to be contrary.)

-

He and Sarah encounter a Raston warrior robot barring their path up the side of the mountain. He begins to worry that they may not be able to evade it and be forced to turn back (he refuses to be the one to fail: he knows that One and Two will make it inside – One will choose the main door, and Two will go below – both will enter the Tower, and he will not be the one that doesn’t succeed).

They are saved by the very Cybermen who had been hunting them. When the Cybermen come over the ridge, the Raston robot attacks them and he and Sarah make their escape. He glances back once, watching as the robot neatly decapitates a Cyberman.

He thinks it very ironic, that he has managed to escape thanks to the ones who were trying to kill him – No. He does not have time to dwell on such things. (He does not think of The Master, and the witty repertoire that this irony would cause.) He moves on, leading Sarah further up the mountainside.

-

He sets up a zipline to the Tower – a stroke of genius, even if he does so say himself – and he and Sarah make it across without any complications. It’s a shame no one else was around to appreciate his ingenuity, other than Sarah, and she wasn’t too impressed until after she had actually made it across.

He tries the door beside them, and it opens without any resistance. With a start, he suddenly remembers that, even if The Master is behind this, there are dark forces within the Tower that may try to impede them and there is still a fair way to go until they reach the Tomb. 

The Tomb, he thinks, is where the answers lie.

They enter cautiously, and he tries not to grow apprehensive about the future (or the past). 

-

They make their way carefully down stairs and through corridors, moving quietly and methodically. There is a heaviness in the air that weighs down on their shoulders and a strange chill that creeps along their skin as they move deeper.

He feels somewhat disconnected from the entire situation. He knows that his other selves are nearby, but he doesn’t know what they are doing, he has no sense of their approach or their thoughts, and he is not being overwhelmed by any sensations that are not HIS own. He should have started to feel something now, given the familiar surroundings of the Tower.

(He ignores the thought that he feels lonely without the sense of One or Two. He ignores the pang he feels when he realises he has given no thought yet to Four or Five, who he thinks are also involved in this mess. He does not admit he is worried about all of them, and wants to find them quickly. He cannot bear the silence around him, and longs for the sound of his voice…not his own, but one that was or will be his.)

Sarah suddenly stops in her tracks, shaking. “I can’t go on. I feel as if something were pushing me back.”

“It’s the mind of Rassilon.” He had not noticed it until she had mentioned it. He wonders idly if he has a higher resistance to the pressure of Rassilon’s will as a result of his struggle against Omega in the past. “We must be nearing the Tomb.” 

(He is nearing his other selves. Not that he finds this a relieving thought, mind you. It was a simply statement of fact, nothing more.)

Sarah still looks shaken, so he sits her down gently and insists she rests. He sets off to explore a few more corridors, making sure he doesn’t stray far. He doesn’t want to leave Sarah alone for too long in a place like this.

As he turns to head back, a voice calls out to him.

“Doctor. Doctor, this way.”

He turns back around, and is surprised. “Mike? Mike Yates? How did you get here?”

Mike smiles benevolently, a kind understanding in his eyes, and he relaxes in relief. (Mike is not here to hurt him.) “Same way as you. Liz Shaw is here too.” Sure enough, Liz comes around the corner as he speaks and gives him a small and familiar wave, smiling fondly.

“Hello, Liz.” He smiles warmly back at her, pleased to see that both she and Mike are unharmed. “Any more of you?”

“Someone you should know very well.” She says in that particular tone she always used to use when she was amused by his antics in the lab as they worked together and knew he was about to say something that would make her smile. He feels a rush of affection for her. “Come and see for yourself.”

She begins to move away, and he follows after her without thought. “Not that little fellow in the checked trousers and the black frock coat?” Mike’s lip curls with amusement at his tone as he falls into step beside him.

“And more.” Liz says smoothly. “There are five of you now.”

“Good grief.” And then he stops, as he thinks inexplicitly of One. (There is a young boy with confused eyes and a gentle smile. “Goodness me, there are five of me now!”) The thought of another self – of another memory of them – grounds him a little.

“They’re waiting for you.” Mike says firmly, with the authority he has always carried.

Well, he mustn’t keep his other selves waiting. (He ignores how much he longs to see them again.) He smiles at Liz and Mike. “I’ll go and get Sarah.”

He turns – but Mike has already moved and stands in the corridor, barring his way. “I’ll fetch her.”

Something in his tone makes him feel uneasy. Mike’s manner is suddenly too similar to how it had been the last time they had spoken. (“I’m sorry, Doctor.”) He looks at Liz and her thin smile, her eyes filled with intelligence but they lack any real interest in his words (and that was why she had left him in the first place.)

When he had first seen them both enter the corridor, they behaved exactly as he hoped they would if he saw them again…and not how they probably would truthfully.

(He feels a deep well of sadness spread throughout him. As Three, he had been exceptionally talented at driving them away – Liz and Mike both. He – very unreasonably – blames Two. After all, both Jamie and Zoe had been loyal to him, and even when they had all been caught by the Time Lords, they had been determined to remain with him. He had clearly lost whatever quality he had possessed as Two to retain his friends during regeneration, and he hates Two for it. Just as he hates him for everything else he lost.) 

When he again insists that he is going to return for Sarah himself, they both try to deter him, but he dodges around them (he will not hurt them, even if they aren’t really his friends) and flees down the corridor.

“No Doctor!” Not-Quite-Mike orders; and Not-Quite-Liz shouts “stop him!”

“How?” He shouts as he runs from them. “You’re phantoms, illusions of the mind!”

There is an echoing wail as Not-Quite-Liz’s scream fades away. Betrayal, loss and sorrow cling to him like a cloak as he flees from the shadows of his regret. The noise frightens him, and it pulls forth the pain of regeneration to the front of his thoughts. He tries to shake the memories away and collides with Sarah.

“Doctor! Oh, there you are.” She smiles in relief.

He peers at her closely, his hearts still pounding. Sarah? (She hasn’t seen him in years.) Sarah? (Teeth and curls. Will she like him better when he is no longer Three?) “Sarah?”

“Sarah? Of course I am. What are you talking about? Listen, why did you leave me for so long? And what was that scream?”

Sarah? “Just phantoms, from the past.” Sarah?

“Yes, well, I’m in the present. And I’m real.”

Her conviction makes him smile. Sarah. “Yes. You’re real enough. Come on.” Relief settles over him. Sarah is real. (No matter what happens in the future, in the present she is here with him.) He hugs her tightly to his side as they walk on. (He is almost afraid that if he lets her go, she’ll vanish.)

-

They enter the tomb, and One is already there, asking what kept him. 

“What kept me? Of all the confounded arrogance!” (At least, he thinks spitefully, he beat Two.)

Still, when One demands he gives his attention to the inscription he has found, he does so. As they begin to inspect the inscription, One mentions Two, who arrives at that very moment and stalks over to them.

“Let’s have a look, what’s this?” Two mutters as he shoves them both gently aside. He doesn’t expect any further acknowledgement than that, when suddenly Two freezes for a moment before he raises his head slowly and glares crossly at him. Now what on earth is his problem? He doesn’t give this much notice, as he suddenly realises who Two had come in with.

“Lethbridge-Stewart?” The man is older than he expected, but he finds he is rather pleased to know that he will still be bothering The Brigadier for a good long while yet. “My dear fellow, how nice it is to see you again.” Because it has been who knows how long since the man saw HIM with this face. Sure enough, The Brigadier’s startled reaction confirms this.

“Great heavens, you as well.” For a moment, The Brigadier is soft and gentle, a fond smile of remembrance on his features, before he recalls that he has the ability to order Three around in a way that he can’t order Two. “Though I can’t exactly say it’s nice to be here.”

He cuts the man off before he has the chance to demand explanations – only slightly apologetic – and moves back to his other selves.

“Move.” He shoves Two out of his way, and feels chastised when One immediately frowns at him. Two glares again, but doesn’t meet his eyes this time. This was very unusual and makes him suspicious. He watches Two from the corner of his eye as he stumps around the inscription, purposefully putting distance between them both – a gesture that is not unnoticed by One either – and it hits him hard.

The illusions of Liz and Mike – he had thought about Jamie and Zoe, about the trial – and he can abruptly recall phantoms of Jamie and Zoe in vivid detail. The realisation cuts him deeply. A small lapse in concentration on his part, and Two had suffered the consequences.

(Horror turns to pity, pity to sorrow, sorrow to guilt, guilt to bitterness, bitterness to anger, and anger to vengeance.)

He glares back at Two. At least now he finally has to suffer some consequences.

The confident voice of Tegan Jovanka cuts through his thoughts. “My version isn’t any better.”

This brings him up short. (A young boy that he can almost remember; confused and in pain, vulnerable and alone. A version of them who would never vent his hatred for himself onto another self.) Vengeance leaves only shame in its wake. 

It does not take the three of them long to decipher the inscription, and he admits to himself that the translation leaves him quite interested, from a scientific perspective.

(He is a scientist after all, and he has a fascination with complex puzzles and equations that he can analyse and solve. He yearns for more information, wants to string all the facts together and dig for answers. He knows better than to want to gather any physical data on the subject, and he will be satisfied with the theoretical knowledge, of which he knows there will be plenty. If a mystery is placed before him, with fairly obvious clues on how to solve it, of course he is going to be tempted.)

“It changes nothing, absolutely nothing.” One says firmly. “This doesn’t concern us. It mustn’t!”

(Oh, very well then. He’ll leave it alone.)

Their companions begin to demand an explanation. He and Two both look to One for their lead.

“You.” One gestures to Two. “Tell them.”

Two beams proudly and launches into an explanation. He feels immediately irritated and frowns at One. Why wasn’t HE chosen? (It’s not fair.) As if One can guess the direction of his thoughts, he arches both eyebrows and eyes him meaningfully. (He remembers that look and what it means: ‘if you’re going to act like a child, then I’m going to treat you like one. Now say sorry.’)

(He supposes he did shove Two rather hard.)

(But that doesn’t mean he has to take being reprimanded gracefully.)

He interjects at the first opportunity. “This is the Tomb of Rassilon, where Rassilon lies in eternal sleep.” He does not miss Two’s exasperated huff, but at least the little clown is…his other self is now looking at him again. “To lose is to win, and he who wins shall lose.” Though that makes as much sense to him as it clearly does to Two. He doesn’t understand how a winner can lose, if they are by definition ‘the winner.’ 

One continues to explain to their companions about the ring and the reward of immortality, and their disbelief is plain.

“But that’s impossible!” 

“Apparently not.” He says rather pointedly.

“Thank you gentlemen.” The Master says smoothly as he enters the tomb, a weapon drawn upon them. “That is exactly what I needed to know.”

(All of his previous anger with the man vanishes as it is replaced by a wave of sickened horror.)

“I came here to help you. A little unwillingly, but I came. My services were scorned, my help refused. Now I shall help myself, to immortality.”

“You’re hardly a suitable candidate.” But the man is determined – and desperate – to evade death, he always has been. And he has exhausted his allotted regenerations.

The power of Rassilon’s will has been ever constant in the tomb since they arrived, a presence in the room that him and his other selves have all sensed, but it has left them alone. Now, that will is bearing down on The Master, drumming in time to his hearts, and his eyes are alight with madness as he drifts the aim of his weapon back and forth between all three of his selves.

(While the weapon moves steadily between them all, The Master’s eyes do not. He does not look at One at all, and only glances at Two once or twice. They are primarily focused on Three.)

(It is understandable that The Master is doing this. The Master is the one holding the grudge now and he is rather justified in doing so. He did scorn his services, and he did refuse his help, and The Master was innocent. He is responsible for whatever madness has taken his old friend, and they are not the children they used to be. He has no right to reach out to The Master now, when he had refused to do so before.)

“Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor. How gratifying to do it three times over!”

(…………..)

(The Master kills him…The Master kills him…The Master kills him…The Master kills him…The Master kills him…The Master kills him…)

(He suspects that it will be him.)

The Brigadier delivers a swift punch to The Master’s face and knocks him out.

It does not surprise him that it is One who approaches the renegade to check on him. Two is frowning at the floor, avoiding everyone’s gaze, and he is uncomfortable and embarrassed.

(How much of this could have been avoided, if he had listened to The Master in the first place? He had been wrong, and he had allowed himself to be prejudiced by his anger over what had happened the last time he had seen him – even though that had not been the last time this Master had seen him. He should have known better, and instead he let all of his other selves down by behaving like a spoilt and selfish little child.)

Tegan Jovanka suggests vehemently that they should tie him up. Sarah offers to help, but she looks to The Doctors for approval. (To all of him, he notes. Not just him. Probably because she remembers that he left the man behind in a storm of lightning.) Both One and Two look ready to protest. 

He softly and sadly states that he thinks it would be for the best. When the man awakes, he will be well within his rights to try and kill him again… (and he is so ashamed that he doesn’t know whether or not he would properly defend himself.)

-

While he is attempting to free the TARDIS, One watches as Two searches the computers for information on where their other selves are. (He makes sure that when he speaks to them, he addresses Two with respect. He does not ask to be forgiven, nor does Two ask for an apology, but the mood between them now is tentatively gentle and they are both grateful for it.) 

He disables the force field, and as the TARDIS arrives, Two has made contact with the Capitol.

Five speaks to them in a flat and halted manner, issuing instructions and then terminates the signal before any of them can add anything further.

(He does not like the fact that Five did not respond to Two’s reassurances that the rest of them were safe.) “Something’s wrong, you know.” He says uncomfortably.

“I feel the same.” One affirms mildly.

“Oh.” Two says, looking blank a moment before he shakes it off. “Well, we shall soon see, won’t we?”

(He pauses a moment and glances sidelong at Two. He remembers the horrible fracturing of his thoughts when he was Two during the business with Omega, and he wonders if Two is suffering something similar now. He cannot remember. If he was, why hasn’t he said anything? Is he so unapproachable that not even his other selves can reach out to him?)

Five arrives by transmat with President Borusa. As Tegan Jovanka steps forward to voice her concern for Five, Borusa silences her and freezes all the companions into motionlessness. Then he surveys the other Doctors with bored satisfaction.

“You have served the purpose for which I bought you here.”

“YOU brought us here?” 

The Master is awake now, watching and listening silently, because he is bound and cannot act. He is sure his old friend is appreciating the irony though. (Yes, he thinks, I was wrong and you were right, and I was being stupid, just like you said. If we make it out of here alive, I might even admit that to you one day.) 

The three of them face Borusa and challenge his will, but he wears the coronet of Rassilon and his mind is strong. Two calls out to Five to join them. (It does not escape his notice that Two addresses him as ‘Doctor.’) Five is unresponsive, devoid of thought. (It is unnerving to consider.)

“Concentrate.” One insists. “We must be one.”

They all focus their minds on Five, calling him back to them from the darkness he is wrapped within. (And if he tears apart all of his mental barriers to put everything that he is into the effort, as an act of atonement, no one has to know but himself. No one but HIM self.)

Five breaks free of Borusa, and as he stands with them, a voice booms in the air.

“This is the Game of Rassilon.”

“That was the voice of Rassilon.” One says. “It’s out of our hands now.”

(He is not comforted by this. It makes him feel helpless and powerless. He has always been driven by action, and it hurts to stand by and watch as events unfold before him. This too, feels like atonement and he takes it as such.)

Borusa names The Doctors as his servants, aiding him in his quest for immortality. Rassilon asks if this is so. Two and Five fiercely protest along with him. “It most certainly is not!” He shouts.

“Don’t listen to them, Lord Rassilon.” One calls out. He, Two and Five turn their heads to stare at him in quick succession, baffled. “President Borusa speaks the truth.”

“You believe that Borusa deserves the immortality he seeks?”

“Indeed, I do!”

(He does not understand, nor does he remember. Why is One allowing Borusa to win?)

Borusa takes the ring, and claims immortality, as he has desired to do. The stone effigies on the side of the slab begin to stir with awareness. Borusa cries out in horror and pain, and he is transferred into a spare slot in the stone. Once he has become a part of it too, the effigies all harden once again, immortalised in stone.

“And what of you, Doctors?” Rassilon asks. “Do you claim immortality too?”

There is a resounding chorus of no.

Rassilon agrees to send them back to their separate time streams. 

“One of us is trapped.” Five adds anxiously, and he turns to look at his future self sharply and with foreboding. (He had forgotten about Four again – and he cannot remember what One and Two discovered about his fate. He had not been too preoccupied with the matter before, but now he was Three and Four was next, and he couldn’t remember what was going to happen to him!)

“I know.” Rassilon responds. He returns The Master also; all of his selves watch the renegade disappear. “His sins will find their punishment in due time.” Rassilon says with dark amusement.

Five looks rather miserable at this. Two has slumped, while One appears indifferent, but he remembers how he used to play that tactic when he did not know what to think. He tenses up.

(“Killing you once” rings in his mind. He wonders whether it will be the next time they meet. He wonders whether he will feel as though he deserves it.)

“You have chosen wisely, Doctor.” Rassilon’s presence fades back into obscurity.

One is immensely smug as he and Five both turn to ponder him, and he allows One the satisfaction of explaining what he had realised to Five. He is thinking on the farewells that are about to follow, and realises with a jolt that this may be the last time that HE gets to see his other selves.

They all prepare to depart, and he approaches Five slowly, smiling fondly as he takes in the sight his other selves. Five teases Two, who takes it in good stride, and he suddenly regrets that he will not get to know this young boy any better.

“Our dress sense hasn’t improved much, has it?” He is careful to layer his words with affection and he smiles as Five meets his gaze, amused. 

One gets their attention with a gentle rebuke (“Neither have our manners,” aimed purely at him), bids them all – mainly Five – a swift farewell, and then is quick to move towards the TARDIS with – 

Susan.

(Regret once again pierces his hearts. He didn’t get a chance to speak to her either. But at least she is with One, and he will get to see her again. But nor did he have a moment to bid One a proper farewell either, and he wonders sadly if One ever knew how much respect he has for him, and how sorry he is for his disgraceful behaviour this time around. His memories do not travel backwards. He shakes off his melancholy.)

Two bids a rather enthusiastic goodbye to Five – it’s a wonder the poor boy’s hand didn’t come off – before turning to him. He holds out his hand, determined to part amicably despite the convoluted nature of their relationship.

Two takes it, to his relief. “Goodbye…fancy pants.”

“Scarecrow,” he retorts with a scowl, but he smiles again when Two storms off in a dramatic huff that doesn’t carry half as much irritation as it would had it been genuine. And that, he supposes, was as amicable as the two of them could get. (I’m sorry, he thinks at Two’s retreating back, I’m sorry for how I’ve hated you, and you’ll never know, because you can’t ever remember how I feel in this moment.)

“Well, goodbye Doctor.” The Brigadier says. “Doctors. Splendid fellows, all of you.” He doesn’t linger beyond those words, but he doesn’t need to because the sentiment is more than enough, as always.

He turns to Five, trying to keep his tone brisk. “Well, goodbye, my dear chap. I must say I’ve had the time of my lives.” He smiles broadly at Five, but he doesn’t know what else to say. He doesn’t really have to say anything to Five though – Five is his future, and so Five will remember. He is rescued by Sarah, who shakes Five’s hand politely and says it was nice meeting him. (Sarah doesn’t know who Five is – she leaves him before he is Five.)

“Thank you, Sarah Jane, it was nice meeting you too.” He says, highly amused. Five struggles not to laugh and he claims this as a victory; a positive moment that he can remember about his interactions with his other selves. So few of those moments have been caused by HIM, so he will take this one and treasure it.

-

[Sarah Jane Smith collapses as soon as she is returned to her own time stream. As a linear being, unable to perceive Time, the realigning of her temporal sense is too much for her mind to process without the presence of a Time Lord within the distortion. However, while the distortion returns her at the precise time it took her from; it does not return her to the same space. Instead, she collapses right beside K9, who snaps and barks at the distortion until it leaves, and then carefully rouses her, alarmed by the time traces that the scan of her has detected. When she finally regains consciousness, Sarah Jane Smith is entirely convinced that the jumbles of images in her head are snatches of a half remembered dream and that she had merely fainted. K9 does not correct her belief – the human mind will take steps to protect itself from damage, and he does not want to cause her any further harm.]

-

The distortion puts him back precisely where he had been when it had abducted him, and as a result he nearly crashes straight into a fence; useless and unpredictable thing that it was. He parks Bessie on the side of the road and pinches the bridge of his nose as he struggles with the long forgotten pain of memories being pulled and broken and suppressed within his mind. It happens much faster and much smoother than he ever remembers, but the pain is immense due to the recent destruction of his mental barriers. Once the pain subsides, he thinks carefully of One and Two.

One was always the first, and never had to worry about being struck unexpectedly by memories that were not his own. Two however, Two had suffered greatly and he had forgotten – or had wished to forget – just how greatly until now. And as for himself…in this last experience (he forces himself to think on the Death Zone, the Tomb, the manipulation of him and his other selves at the hands of the Lord President) he had not suffered to that extent as he had expected to (as he had deserved too). But he had also not been able to relate to or understand his past selves as easily as he should have. And he knows now precisely what had caused that.

In the early days of his exile, he had devoted a substantial portion of his time, when not attempting repairs on the TARDIS, to strengthening his mental barriers to suppress One and Two’s memories completely. Occasionally, their memories had broken through (usually when they were focused on something significant or multiple memories working in combination), but most of the time he had kept any echoes successfully contained. He had spent so long trying to separate them from himself that he had almost lost the ability to remember how they felt, how they thought. He had almost abandoned them both to the past.

He looks at his reflection in one Bessie’s mirrors. “I am The Doctor.” He thinks of One, the man who he still respects and always will (even when he is reprimanding him for acting like a child). He thinks of Two, the man with great musical empathy (while he had been born to silence), and the disaster that was their relationship. They had been The Doctor too, and he had almost disregarded them. 

He regrets that they will never know how sorry he is for refusing to acknowledge their contribution to the man he is now. And he will never forgive himself for it.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three behaves rather badly in The Five Doctors, and I tried to stay true to that in this chapter. 
> 
> Still served with your regular sides of loneliness and angst, but with an unhealthy additional dose of guilt too. Hope you…um…enjoyed…your meal?
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including The War Games; Spearhead From Space; The Three Doctors; Frontier In Space; Invasion of The Dinosaurs; Planet of The Spiders; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	12. The Third Regeneration hurts the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that this was so long coming! I went on holidays and couldn’t fit all my DVDs into my suitcase (not for lack of trying!) But here it is now!
> 
> From Three’s perspective, ‘Planet of the Spiders’ takes place almost immediately after ‘The Five Doctors.’ I have decided this, because as you will see, Three has not had time to attempt to recover from his experiences in the previous chapter.
> 
> And this chapter also took so long to write, because there is just so much of Four overall, and he involves a LOT of planning. All of Four’s subsequent chapters may be updated slowly, for this very reason. You have been forewarned, so my conscience is clear. A bit. 
> 
> Have your jelly babies at the ready.

-12-

-

His mind is not the same after his latest meeting with his other selves. He doesn’t blame Five, how can he (Five is not Two, his future not his past, but he knows now he cannot blame Two anymore either and it makes him feel guilty and ill when the thought crosses his mind), but his mental barriers are in utter ruin and his basic attempts to reconstruct them are fruitless. He made the choice to tear them down and completely destroy them to save his other self, and he does not regret that decision.

But he has found it difficult to focus with so much background noise in his mind, sensations and memories that do not belong to HIM moving and twisting just beyond reach, and he is desperate for a solution that will give him some temporary relief until he is able to find the time to meticulously attend to the devastation properly. Ironically, he needs Time.

His colleagues constantly see him with his fingers pressed against his temple in a very human gesture, trying to burrow in and press against the pain to ease it. Headache, he tells everyone who asks and they believe them, because they do not care to ask again.

(“I thought you said you couldn’t get headaches like we do?” Sarah asks, curiously. “Are you sure you’re all right?” She watches him closely as he smiles and explains away her concern with meaningless words she doesn’t understand until she relents and leaves the issue alone for his sake.)

(“Headache?” The Brigadier asks, suspiciously. “Are you sure?” He watches him closely as he smiles and tries to explain away his concern with meaningless words he doesn’t understand until he levels the ‘I-Can-Hear-What-You’re-Not-Saying’ look and leaves the issue alone for his sake. But The Brigadier continues to watch him very closely, and he knows that the man is thinking of his other selves too. It is hard to track what the other man knows about the future and the past when it is already so jumbled in his own head.)

He devours material on ESP, psycholotry, telepathy, and clairvoyance, searching for anything that may help him turn the flood in his mind back into a trickle. Humans are nowhere near as advanced as the Time Lords are in terms of discipline and conscious control, but they possess something far more precious, something most Time Lords lack – Imagination.

-

His intended topic with Professor Clegg – to discuss self-imposed limitations upon one’s power of perception – goes out the window when he realises that the man’s clairvoyant and psychokinetic abilities have risen dramatically over a short period of time, and the man is frightened by what he has become. He suddenly finds himself reassuring the man that his struggles are understandable, that any other man would be facing the same struggles in his place, and that his powers have arisen from dormant pieces of his own mind and it is perfectly natural, if not normal.

(He empathises. He thinks of One, who did not understand and then, when he did, tried to protect them all. He thinks of Two, being torn apart by memories of the past and fear of the future. Of Four, who will suffer greatly – but he cannot remember how – and Five, who is lost without them all – and will be lost to him forever, because memories cannot travel backwards.) 

There is a moment when he is sure that Clegg is going to ask him if he will be able to ‘return him to normal’. He is glad when the question is not voiced aloud, because he is afraid of the answer. (He had tried to reject his past and now his present is consumed by it, and tainted by the future.)

-

Clegg mentions Doris. The Brigadier is embarrassed by the past, and he is silently berating himself for not thinking of the future. He has heard the name Doris before, though both Two and Alistair were/will be six drinks in by then.

(He calls The Brigadier ‘Alistair’ by mistake. He should not have done that – this Brigadier is still too early in their time stream for that name to be used by him, their friendship is still currently complicated by their professional relationship – and Names are Very Important to Time Lords. But The Brigadier accepts his name without any fuss or mention of the significance of the gesture.)

He turns Clegg’s focus onto him instead. For a moment, he is anxious about what Clegg will see. (He has so much history, he is tangled up with far more shadows of the past than The Brigadier is, and there are his other selves to consider too. He can feel the echoes of them pressing against him in this moment.) But to his relief, Clegg only perceives the creatures that look like monsters, and his own demons remain unseen.

As they discuss the results of the tests, Benton arrives with a package arrives from Jo. Jo has sent back the blue crystal he gave her as a wedding present. (It doesn’t hurt, IT DOESN’T, because yes he tried to make a human gesture and clearly failed, but that’s not the point, because she has sent it back for practical reasons, and he’s NOT HURT because of course he would NEVER have given it to her if he thought it was detrimental to her – or dangerous – and it’s all very logical for her to return it.) She’s been told that it’s bad magic and has to part with it while she and her husband visit the next native village. (And it doesn’t hurt. He doesn’t think of Susan’s smile or Jamie’s laugh. He doesn’t.)

Clegg takes the crystal and the room shakes. There is a powerful mental pressure in the room, and he doesn’t reach Clegg in time. (He looks at the man and thinks that though the question of returning to ‘normal’ can never be asked now, he is still afraid of the answer. Is this the answer? Is death always the only answer?) Clegg is dead.

He knows he has to look into the crystal himself to get the answers they need. He does not tell Benton or The Brigadier about the mental force he had detected earlier. He doesn’t want them to worry, and he can handle the pressure.

-

The light of the crystal tears ribbons through his mind, as without his barriers he is left raw and exposed to the pressure that is being focused on it. For a moment, his sense of One and Two are slowly pulled away from him, the connection between his present and past selves being stretched out like elastic and there is an uncomfortable tingling that races over him. The sensation is comparative to thousands of tiny spiders scuttling over the surface of his skin. (He will not lose them now, not after everything they have been through together!) He reaches for concrete recollections of One (Grandfather) and Two (Recorder) and yanks them back, piecing them back where they belong within him. He shuddered, torn between fading terror and the relief at his eventual haphazard success. He thinks of childhood lessons and old professors from long ago, and wishes he had paid more attention to their lectures.

-

The smell of coffee brings him back to himself, courtesy of Benton, proving to be as reliable as always. The Brigadier snaps irritably at them both to hide his concern, and suddenly he finds himself telling his old friend a tale he has not told in centuries.

“When I was a young man, there was an old hermit who lived halfway up a mountain just behind our house. I spent some of the finest hours of my life with that old man.” He does not need to say that sometimes the man came down from the mountain and spoke before a classroom full of students. “And it was from him I first learnt how to look into my mind.” (His mind is damaged beyond repair. He is not strong enough to be of any use anymore.) “When I looked into that crystal, all I could see was the face of my old teacher.” Where are his old mentors now? Who does he turn to now when he needs temporal help?

-

When Sarah tells him that she has been with Mike, who called her to report some strange occurrences and wants them to investigate, he almost refuses. He remembers the gun and the horrible ache of betrayal. (He remembers a corridor in a Tower and a man who greets him with a benevolent smile, but it is a falsehood and it cannot happen that way.) He is Three – and he does not know whether he can forgive in this body; he hasn’t had any success with that particular trait so far.

Then Sarah says “Spider,” and he cannot refuse anyway.

-

Venerable Cho-Je speaks with age old wisdom, delivered in convoluted earth phrases, but the meanings of each still pierce him to the core. 

“Time is an illusion.” He explains to Mike, trying to hide his discomfort and uncertainty at standing so close to the man, wishing he could let go of past infringements. Mike is making an effort as well to be open and friendly, the guilt flickering across his eyes when they linger on him. The obvious guilt pulls thoughts of Two to the forefront of his mind and he wonders idly if there is some higher meaning to the suffering he and his other self share.

“The meaning of meaning is the last barrier to understanding.” Cho-Je says suddenly, and his eyes burn like star fire. He cannot bear to hold the gaze, feeling exposed and strangely bereft, as though he is being examined and has been found wanting. Cho-Je leaves moments later.

-

Sarah is spirited away to Metebelis 3, and he needs the TARDIS to get there after her. Caught up with their concern for Sarah, he and Mike are suddenly discussing the situation with a familiar comradeship (as though there had been no betrayal), and Mike is clearly unprepared for the worry that sounds in his own voice as he states his concerns about the reliability of using the TARDIS. 

“I always leave the actual landing to the TARDIS herself. She’s no fool, you know.”

“You speak as if she were alive.” Mike’s tone is hesitant, clearly thinking of those days when the TARDIS stood motionless in the lab. 

His clear affection for his blue Police Box had always been a subject of ridicule amongst many of the UNIT soldiers, Mike included. But now he simply smiles at Mike, with genuine honesty. “Yes. Yes, I do, don’t I?” He looks at the man before him, who he once considered his friend, the man who has clearly been searching for atonement for the wrongs he has committed. Whether or not he can find it within himself to forgive for this man, at least Mike is not as completely lost as he once feared.

“Bye Mike.”

-

On Metebelis 3, he challenges the Queen Spider’s authority. During the scuffle with her guards, he is struck with a stream of psychokinetic energy. There is a mental force behind it and his mind screams with pain. (One watches lightning strike a chequered board.) His barriers are gone and his body cannot cope under the mental stress without them. As he collapses, he thinks of Sarah, watching helplessly. (Two could not bear to stand there and watch; he screams for Omega to stop.) His mind is plunged into silence and he is consumed by it as he had not been since he first became Three.

-

The silence fills his head and he talks on and on and on, in an effort to ignore it. But then memories from One and Two burst across his mind, trying to fill that silence with their own noise. The pain caused by the contrast between the different sensations is relentless. (And yet, it almost feels as though both One and Two have leapt out of the past to his defence, and he clutches at his memories as them like lifelines.) But his mind is struggling with the damage that has long since festered within him, and when it is placed under pressure again by that strong mental power of the Great One, he knows that he cannot endure her in his current state.

She senses fear in his mind and she is right, but it is not fear of her. She has told him to go back to earth to retrieve the blue crystal. And for the first time he, Three, does not feel the yearning to return to that Time and Space, and the lack of compulsion frightens him more than the silence in his thoughts.

And that is precisely why he returns.

-

K’anpo is waiting for him.

The old man makes him take a seat to tell his story and he feels only a century old again; caught red handed (“Found?” “Well, perhaps ‘stole’ might be a better word.”), upon The Master’s shoulders as he tries to dismantle the sensor above the door – hampered by The Master’s useless attempts at advice – so they can escape together (“The recognition of friends is not always easy”) before their teachers return to issue punishment for the small mishap during their earlier time experiment.

He admits, in his own way, that he does not have the answers this time. K’anpo pulls out the blue crystal and presents it to him nonchalantly. And then Sarah attacks him, under the thrall of the Queen Spider and he panics because he has been so preoccupied with his own mind falling apart that he hadn’t even noticed that hers was screaming too – ! 

“Look into your mind,” K’anpo tells Sarah, “and see that you are free!”

Sarah breaks free from the Queen Spider’s hold and he wants to weep with relief for her as he catches her. He does not allow her to stew in her own guilt over her moment of weakness. He thinks of his own failures – One’s and Two’s and Three’s that have happened, and Four’s and Five’s (and Six’s) yet to come – and tells her with firm conviction that she did very well.

“We are all apt to surrender ourselves to domination.” K’anpo says. “Even the strongest of us.”

He knows perfectly well that K’anpo is not talking about Sarah anymore.

“He’s talking about my greed.” He says aloud to Sarah. “My greed for knowledge, for information.” He wishes he felt coherent enough to start shouting in indignation – he cannot help his own nature – and suddenly the realisation hits him hard. 

Eyes twinkle with amusement. “You were always a little slow on the uptake, my boy.” K’anpo then goes on to explain to Sarah how he is also a Time Lord, The Doctor’s old teacher, and how Cho-je is a projection of himself. (He knows that K’anpo and Che-jo will have had no interaction with each other at all, because K’anpo has always been religiously zealous about the First Rule, so Cho-je must be critically necessary for K’anpo to have been generated in the first place; echoed projections are quite rare, and always herald an impending regeneration.) The revelation of Cho-je surprises him because he can barely think straight as it is, with the memories of his other selves battering away at the silence in his mind, but he remembers a look that burns and the meaning of understanding. He catches a memory of Two, playing twinkle twinkle little star on his recorder and holds it close. He can almost feel the music through the clarity of the memory. Yes, he thinks to himself, to Two, perhaps there is a higher meaning to their suffering after all.

“There is no time left.” (He does not know how much longer his mind can function like this. He leans heavily on the stubbornness of One and the resilience of Two.) K’anpo gives him that look – that look he always gave him when he misused temporal terms. He holds himself still, quelling the urge to fidget impatiently, because he doesn’t have a desk – or fellow classmate – to hide behind. And because he is concentrating so hard on that, the soft and childish plea slips out before he can stop it. “Help me.”

K’anpo’s voice is full of compassion, but his eyes are old and grief-stricken. “The moment of truth for us both. You know what you have to do?” There can be no negotiation. There is no other way. “What is it you most fear?”

He thinks bitterly of the First Rule of Time.

As the depth of his fear is laid out in the silence between them, K’anpo closes his eyes in despair. He takes the crystal.

-

He confronts the Great One again, and listens to her insane vitriol about her desire to increase her mental powers to infinity. (She sounds like the very members of the High Council who frightened him and his friends when they were children.) He reaches out to her in compassion, trying to save her from her madness. (He is on trial for interfering, but that is not why he is being prosecuted.)

The radiation of the caves seeps into every cell of his body while he speaks. Now there is a physical ache within him to match the pain in his mind. His body is being eroded from the inside out.

He watches as the Great One completes the network of her mental pattern, her thoughts structured and arranged precisely how she desires them to be, and he nearly retches in horror. (He had tried so hard to cut away his bonds to One and Two, and the pattern of her mind now reflects the damage he has done to himself. There is a memory of One holding Susan securely as she cries, a memory of Jamie holding Two while he shakes, and he holds onto both of these tightly, one in each heart.) The Great One starts screaming as her mind destroys itself, and he waits until she has been utterly decimated (watching the process is almost an act of penance, to see what could have happened to himself), before he turns and flees.

He fumbles his way back towards the TARDIS. (“That’s it, my boy.” One could be saying, gesturing with his cane. “You’re very nearly there now.”) He staggers inside, colliding with the console as his limbs begin to fail. The TARDIS is crooning softly and she lowers her light levels by sixty eight percent. (“Music will help,” Two might smile sadly as he whisks out his recorder. “Shall I play something for you, or rather us?”) He wants to speak to them both, but he can’t, they are both confined to his past now.

He is dying, and he feels so alone. He curls up underneath the console in agony as the radiation crawls through him. He suffers in silence, turning the screams he wants to make into shudders. He began as Three in silence, and so he shall end in silence as well.

The TARDIS is not being silent. She is weaving a melody around him – he cannot feel it the way he used to be able to, the way he may be able to again once he is a new man – but he appreciates the thought. He loses track of the time. He does not know how long it has been before he speaks to her.

“Radiation poisoning; I must remember not to die this way again in the future. It’s quite uncomfortable.”

He sounds, well, like he’s dying. She launches herself into flight without prompting. He doesn’t know what she’s doing, there’s really no point, because there is only thing he can think of. “Take me home,” he sobs, and he doesn’t even know why he’s saying it, because she is his home, and has been for many years. He has nowhere else to go.

She lands. One or Two or Three, he’s always been curious, so he drags himself up and slowly opens the door to see where she’s taken him. He hears Sarah cry out his name, but he can’t focus properly on her face. He knows The Brigadier is somewhere nearby, because the man is dependable like that, and he has something important to tell them both. “The TARDIS brought me home.” Sarah Jane Smith is here, and so is The Brigadier, Alistair, (and though The Master is currently not, he was here often enough, and his presence still lingers faintly in the space around the lab). He is home. He has been grateful to them all for support they have given him, even if he was unable to say it like they deserved to hear. Hopefully his next body is more gracious, and will be able to say the words he could never seem to manage.

His body collapses beneath him.

“I had to face my fear.” There is so much pain everywhere. “That was more important than just going on living.” But Sarah is crying, she looks in pain too, and he realises that he is the cause. “A tear, Sarah Jane? No, don’t cry. While there’s life, there’s…”

Everything is so silent. There is no more sound anywhere. He’s dying, but surely he can’t keep dying for much longer. Surely he must start regenerating soon. (Please.) He knows there is another body next (– teeth and curls –) and he is quite prepared to become that man now if it means he will regenerate and the pain will end.

A voice cuts through the silence. It is firm and authoritative, with an undercurrent of fond exasperation. “Well, here we go again.” It almost sounds like an order, and because the voice is one that he has long trusted, he follows it without question.

(Liz, Mike. Benton, Jo, Sarah. The Master. Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.)

-

This time, regeneration is swift, immediate and (surprising) painless, perhaps because he has spent so long dying. There is a moment when he is stuck between the man he is/was and the man he is/becoming. (Three mourns himself and the injustice of each of his regenerations, but accepts that he deserves it, and surrenders himself to Four.)

Then the universe explodes in his mind. 

-

He opens his eyes, sees a woman and a man he knows well; they look worried, though the man hides it behind a veil of detachment. It is appropriate for him to reassure them, he thinks.

“I tell you, Brigadier, there’s nothing to worry about.” He says briskly as he sits up. “The brontosaurus is large and placid. And stupid. The square on the hypotenuse equals the sum of the square on the other two sides. Why is a mouse when it spins? Never did know the answer to that one.” He falls back again. His mind teems with all the knowledge of the universe, it spins and demands his attention, and he is hungry for it after (his other self suffered) such a long period of restriction. The humans are babbling around him, but it is unimportant to him presently. He turns his attention inward and reacquaints himself with the stars and time.

-

They’ve put him under the charge of a Doctor Sullivan – a young lad, nice enough fellow, but a Doctor? He is The Doctor, thank you very much, no question or doubt about it – and it is quite simple to give the young lad the slip. He makes his way back to the (his?) lab and sees the TARDIS, standing there tall and proud in the corner (where she always used to sit). He beams at her excitedly. The whole universe, he thinks, as he races towards her, we have the whole universe (back) before us (again). He is eager to leap into Time, to wander in eternity, and he thirsts for the stars.

She’s locked. He pouts. Key. Key, key, key, key. Where did he put it? He fumbles around for a moment, trying to remember. (He abruptly remembers Three, raw and freshly churned out from Two, fixated on his shoes.) He shakes out his shoe, and the key falls into his palm. “Yes, of course,” he says to himself, “obvious place.” But before he can enter the TARDIS, Doctor Sullivan accosts him, wanting to drag him back to the sick bay.

“But I’m The Doctor.” It’s not quite a whine, because his tone is mild, but it still earns him the ‘Now, Doctor,’ look from Doctor Sullivan. He’s amazed that the man has perfected it so soon into their acquaintance.

“No, Doctor, I’m the doctor and I say that you’re not fit.”

“You may be A doctor, but I am THE Doctor.” He feels himself grinning again. “The definite article, you might say.” Sullivan begins to speak again, in a patronising tone, and it makes him cross. “Not fit! Not fit! Of course I’m fit. All systems go!” He smacks his hand into a brick sitting on the table and it breaks. Oh! This new body of his is strong! He likes that. He starts jogging in place, eager to get a feel for his new parameters, then grabs for Sullivan’s stethoscope, getting the man to listen to his hearts beat. “A new body is like a new house, takes a little bit of time to settle in.” He strolls across the room and catches sight of a mirror. He examines his new face with wide-eyed astonishment. (Teeth and curls!) “As for the physiognomy…well, nothing’s perfect. Have to take the rough with the smooth.” He grins at his reflection, and enjoys seeing the way amusement lights up his face. “Mind you, I think the nose is a definite improvement. As for the ears…well, I’m not too sure.” He keeps his mind on Sullivan the whole time, tracking the man’s moods as he observes him babble. He rounds back to him and asks for his opinion.

Sullivan seems a little poleaxed, but credit to him, he does his best to keep up. “I’m really not sure.”

“Well of course you don’t. Why should you? You’re a busy man. You don’t want to stand here burbling about my ears. Neither here nor there.” He notices with interest that his new body has retained the gift for words, though while Three spoke with a refined fluidity, each word a delicate instrument of science, he seems to have simply lost many of the filters between his mouth and his brain. Words escape his mouth and run, run, run, nothing is fast enough to keep up with his energy now, he is wired and ready to go, his mind is so full of information, of countless trains of thought all running at once, that he needs to speak all the obvious words he can, to dump them out of his mind so he has more room for more thoughts. The itch to start running, to chase after the stars has returned with a vengeance and he needs to go, can’t stay here, he has so many things he needs to do, out there in the universe. “I can’t waste any more time. Things to do, places to go. I’m a busy man, too, you know. Thank you for a most interesting conversation. Must be on my way.”

But Sullivan is sharper and more determined than he thought. “There is absolutely no question of you leaving, Doctor.”

(It’s not a threat. He knows that, deep down, but it hits him hard, as though he had just tried to jump a hurdle and smacked into the bar instead, all the wind knocked from him. He can’t stay here, he needs the stars, he needs to be out in the universe, he doesn’t want to be trapped like Three was.)

He stumbles around disorientated for a moment by the horrifying thought that he could be confined again, wanting to prove to Sullivan that he is fine, please, he is fine, he is better than he has ever been emerging from a regeneration, and then Sullivan will give him permission to leave. (For some reason he needs permission, or at least acceptance, but he’s sure it needs to come from someone else, not Sullivan.) He seizes a skipping rope, and begins to skip, his proximity compelling poor Sullivan to join in. He knows Sullivan won’t let him leave; Sullivan is a doctor, and he must do what he feels is right for the people under his care, for their own good. (Even if it means he is hated for it.)

So when he tangles Sullivan up in the skipping rope, he doesn’t do it as tightly as he could have. He leaps into the TARDIS and lovingly familiarises himself with the console. He knows all of her now, or as much as she will allow him. She hums contently as he races around in circles.

“Hello, old girl.” He cheers. “Shall we?”

The TARDIS lowers the pitch of her hum pointedly as he moves to take off, and as a result he hears the shouting from outside.

“Please, it’s Sarah!”

He races back to the door and yanks it open. Sarah stands there, frantic. “Hello.” He says. “Come to see me off, have you?” He is uncertain about whether she will want to stay. She was very fond of Three, but Three is gone now, and he is Four, (but he knows Three was worried that she might like Four better), but she’s here, which means she still must want to travel with him. “Well, I hate goodbyes. I’ll just slip away quietly.” And then Sarah is the one to tell him he can’t go, and he has struck that hurdle again and he can’t breathe. “Can’t? Can’t? There’s no such word as ‘Can’t’!” He snaps angrily, and slams the TARDIS door shut, terrified. He has to go, they must understand that, please, they mustn’t try to make him stay. (Three was designed to endure that madness, but he is not. It will destroy him before he has even got to know himself.) He thinks a moment. Sarah would never hurt him like that. He pulls the door back open and taps her arm. “Why not?”

“Well, because you not –” she wisely decides not to use that argument, and changes topic mid-sentence. “Well, because The Brigadier needs you. Don’t you, Brigadier?”

“What? Oh, yes, of course, depending on you.” The man says this quite casually, but there is an undercurrent of seriousness and concern beneath the words. 

“You are still UNIT’s scientific advisor.” Sarah says, trying to needle him into agreement. “You can’t go rushing off.”

“Can’t I?” He is not tied to UNIT any more. Three was their scientific advisor, and he is not. “Goodbye.” He shuts the door again.

He opens the door again, and stares hard at the man. “Haven’t we met somewhere before? No, don’t tell me.” The man assumes the standard exasperated-by-your-antics persona. “Ah! Brigadier.” He had not forgotten The Brigadier, of course, but it is the only way he can warn/remind the other man about the teething problems inherent in regeneration. Right now, his mind is running too fast and too hot, he has been waylaid twice already, causing him to stumble but not fall, and he is worried about how to keep his momentum without crashing. He doesn’t know if this body has limits yet, or where they exist. He needs to slow down, but he doesn’t know how. “Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.” The Brigadier is the one who he goes to, to ask permission (acceptance, understanding) from when he wants to leave.

But when he opens his mouth again, he does not ask to leave. He needs to stay around The Brigadier for the moment, he realises, until he stabilises. The Brigadier will keep him safe, and more importantly, will be candid with him about whether he is still the Doctor. (Everyone is still calling him ‘The Doctor’ because that was who he was. And HE knows he is still The Doctor. But The Brigadier has known all of him, and will know more of him, and so The Brigadier’s opinion is the one that matters most.)

He is the Doctor, and the first thing he needs to do, is find something to wear. He feels far more unconventional and impulsive than his predecessors, but he struggles to find clothes that express this and that he still feels comfortable in. He tries a Viking outfit, then the King of Hearts, and a clown. Thankfully, The Brigadier takes this eccentric behaviour in stride, and calmly dismisses each of these in a professional manner. He grows frustrated with himself, and doesn’t pay attention as he dresses himself this time. Nothing is working! He has never been this – this – visually inexpressible – before. He throws on a jacket, grabbing a hat before stalking back to the door of the wardrobe, deciding angrily that he doesn’t care anymore if he can’t find anything to compliment him. He tangles his feet in something as he nears the door and face plants. “I meant to do that!” He shouts, aloud, just in case. He kicks his way out of the offending item and shakes it. It’s a scarf. He considers it. It’s very long, expertly woven, and yet completely impractical. He considers it some more, then loops it around his neck.

“How about this?” He asks as he emerges again, and for some reason, this time he feels nervous. As though, this time it matters.

“Much better, Doctor. Let’s settle for that please.” The Brigadier says, as though he hasn’t been interested at all in helping (but he knows his old friend better than that), before he turns to business matters. The Brigadier has called him The Doctor, and he had meant it.

He beams, proud of himself and his scarf.

-

Both he and The Brigadier make adjustments with each other as they get to work. He is discovering the finer points of his personality, which seems to have the unfortunate side effect of making every one who talks to him feel alienated. (He is far more ‘alien’ to these humans than Three was, and the contrast must seem starkly obvious to them all. The Brigadier does not care, and he is comforted by this.) The Brigadier is having no problems reconciling that regeneration has created a new man, as he is familiar with this process by now, but the shift in their professional relationship is more difficult for him to adapt to. He struggles not to give orders because he is not his boss any more, and though he doesn’t manage it all the time, the effort he makes speaks volumes about how much he values their friendship.

-

By the time the immediate crisis is over, he has learnt how to better deal with his new high paced personality. (He has transitioned into his new skin much more quickly than Two or Three had managed, and he pities them for their struggles.) He takes a deep breath and listens. He can feel Time and the stars calling to him. It is time for him to leave. (He feels guilty, feels that he is abandoning The Brigadier, but he cannot help that, and The Brigadier understands.)

(He had strolled into the man’s office, seized the file sitting protectively by the man’s elbow. “Hello, what’s this then?” The Brigadier had replied without looking up. “All the things that my superiors want you to attend to after you are de-briefed.” He had flicked through the file, dismayed, even as the man had continued. “But I planned to tell them you’ll be a little late.” Permission granted.)

He finds Sarah in his lab, and offers her a jelly baby. She doesn’t take one, and he turns to his TARDIS, hurt as she tells him once again that he ‘can’t just go.’ (She still wants him to stay here? Does she not understand how much it hurts? He was sure she used to. Or had he not told her then?) He spins around and chants “I won’t, I won’t, I won’t,” and slams his hand down on another brick for dramatic effect, but this one doesn’t break and his hand aches instead. Ouch, he thinks. That’s not fair.

“Doctor, you’re being childish.”

“Well, of course I am. There’s no point in being grown-up if you can’t be childish sometimes.” He offers her the jelly babies again. “Are you coming?”

And this time, she does take one, pops it into her mouth, and he grins. As he turns to unlock the TARDIS, Harry walks in. (When did Doctor Sullivan become Harry? The man has snuck into his good graces without him noticing. That’s interesting, he hadn’t meant for that to happen.)

“Hello. Well, what are you two up to now, eh?”

Harry Sullivan is a doctor. Harry understands what it means to be a doctor, understands that sometimes you have to do things because you are called to help people, and understands that very often people will spend most of their time complaining about you, or hating you, (or blaming you for the lives you could not save.) Harry is also…a member of UNIT.

He offers Harry the bag of jelly babies. Harry takes one without thought, and bites it in half. Harry winds him up about old police boxes that can’t go careening all over the place, so he steals back the other half of the jelly baby and suggests that Harry takes a look inside the police box. When he follows the man inside, he sees that Harry’s face is lit up with childlike wonder. 

“Once round the block before my shift start then, Doctor?” Harry asks. 

“Yes, of course, Doctor Sullivan.” He replies graciously, and they both grin at each other.

-

He, Sarah and Harry have not been travelling for very long when it happens. He takes the transmat beam back to the TARDIS first, wanting to check on her; one moment he is beginning to materialise in the console room and the next he is standing in a windswept and barren wasteland scarred by an extensive history of war. He has a horrible sense of foreboding, because only one force could penetrate the TARDIS defences like that. He makes a mental note to boost her protective capabilities; she had not yet fully recovered from her exile on earth, and he really should have tended to her sooner.

“Welcome, Doctor.”

He is extremely UNIMPRESSED. “Look, whatever I’ve done for you in the past, I’ve more than made up for. I will not tolerate this continual interference in my life.” His past selves all tolerated it as the price for their freedom, but HE is determined NOT to stand for it.

“Continual?” The Time Lord is far more amused than he has any right to be. “We pride ourselves, we seldom interfere in the affairs of others.”

“Except mine.” He says pointedly. “I won’t do it. Whatever it is, I refuse.”

“Daleks.”

And that unfortunately is the ultimate trump card if there ever was one. (Although, ‘Power Mad Time Lords’ would work just as well, but they would never use that one, because then they’d have to document it somewhere, and prove that he and the other renegades had been right in the first place.)

“We foresee a time when they will have destroyed all other life forms and become the dominant creature in the universe.” (This must have personally offended the current High Council of Self-Righteousness, he thinks, exasperated by the obviousness of this statement because everyone who knows what Daleks are knows that that’s possible.) “We’d like you to return to Skaro at a point in time before the Daleks evolved.”

Chills run down his spine, but he conceals it well. “Do you mean avert their creation?”

“OR affect their genetic development so that they evolve into less aggressive creatures.” Stressing the point, stressing that the High Council CANNOT be held accountable for whichever measure he takes on their behalf.

“That’s feasible,” he says mildly, waiting.

“Alternatively…if you learn enough about their very beginnings, you might discover some inherent weakness.”

This disturbs him far more than the original declaration of their intentions. This suddenly sounds far less like a benign service to the universe, and more like a prelude to war. They are breaking so many rules even suggesting these courses of action. He will have to be very, very careful not to upset the balance of the time stream if he gets involved in the creation of the Daleks. (And he understands the fragility of the time stream when rules are broken better than anyone else.) 

“You’ll do it?”

(If he does not agree, they will send someone else. Probably The Rani, who would not be able to resist the genetic temptation the opportunity would present; her ambitions would leave her quite dead, and the universe left with a race of Daleks even more insane than the current ones. Failing The Rani’s agreement, they would turn to The Master. The Master would, of course, destroy the Daleks utterly, but he would also have no regard for the repercussions of broken rules. He’d very likely take out four fifths of the universe in the process, and it could cause serious damage to his regeneration cycle. The Master has already used up his allotted regenerations, and will be successful in his efforts to cheat his way through additions at least once more – there is a tomb in their past/future that can attest to that – and so the temporal backlash would not only leave him very dead, but take out the rest of the universe as well. His reply, therefore, is clear.)

“Yes.”

“We thought it would save time if we assumed your agreement.” The other man smiles cruelly at him and hands him the Time Ring. The significance is not lost on him: the Time Lords will do nothing further to implicate their involvement, and thus will not be responsible for whether he makes it off Skaro alive. Then the man is gone.

He is horrified when he sees that Sarah and Harry have been brought to Skaro too. They do not need to be involved in this! He resolves to punch that no good Meddler in the face when he sees him next. The man has done this on purpose, to repay him for old transgressions. He faces his companions solemnly, but tries to keep his tone light so as not to frighten them.

“There’s been a slight change of plan.”

-

He has long hated the Daleks and their evil, their intolerance and their casuistic disregard for the simple beauty of life. But he maintains a detachment about his mission, not allowing his feelings to get tangled up over what he has come here to do. He will not allow the moment he makes his decision to be marred by any sort of emotional bias, particularly hatred. To make his decision about what to do, he will need to stay clinical about the whole affair. He is grateful for Harry’s company; Harry will keep him grounded with his human morality.

“Davros” is mentioned by the few Kaleds he has had occasion to speak to, described as their ‘greatest scientist’ and ‘supreme commander’ hand in hand. When the man enters the room, he speaks in a calculated manner that reveals his intellect, but his voice feels cold, lacking any gentle pleasure and wonder about his subject. This man is obsessed with science and progress for the sake of advancement itself, and he holds no joy for any of the work specifically, only craving the end result. But even as he is beginning to be moved by pity and sorrow for the scientist who does not find joy in science, Davros wishes to show off his newest creation to them all.

And a Dalek enters the room.

The Dalek is not even called a Dalek yet it is so new, and it is fitted with its weaponry for “self-defence” as he watches. He feels revulsion twist within him, but he tries to remain impartial as Davros turns the Dalek entirely over to independent self-control for the first time. The actions of this newly born Dalek, untainted by outside influences, will speak for the future of its race. It turns immediately to him and Harry, identifying the non-conformity.

“Aliens.” It says. “I must exterminate. Exterminate.”

One of the scientists leaps forward in their defence and shuts down the Dalek’s weapons. Davros expresses his anger just as coldly as he has expressed everything else thus far.

“You think the saving of a worthless life more important than the progress we have made?” Davros’s anger begins to heat slowly, and he sounds more Dalek-like the more his fire builds. “My creature showed a natural desire, an instinct to destroy and you interceded. You will be punished for this!” 

The whole display has left him troubled. Davros has given the Daleks the fire of his anger and his cold calculating reasoning, without tempering them with any other emotions. The natural instinct of a Dalek first born is to kill anything that is different, just as it has always been, and he is disheartened. If the Dalek nature truly does not have the potential for anything other than death, then he may be forced into committing genocide after all. And the irony that the principal behind the creation of the Daleks was originally a means of preserving life, of ensuring the survival of a race long condemned to war, is almost too much to bear on top of everything else he has to deal with.

-

He had not expected to get through this mission without being personally confronted by Davros. When he is apprehended and restrained, he wonders whether he may be able to reach the man, and encourage him to give the Daleks a moral sense of right and wrong. He tells the man that he was sent to stop the development of the Daleks because of the carnage and destruction they have caused in the name of hate and war. He asks Davros to make them a force of good instead of evil.

But when Davros speaks, it is with the cold certainty of a Dalek with a single purpose. Davros is fascinated by the new variable that his presence has created: time travel. He wants to know how the Daleks have failed in the future, so he can perfect them now to overcome the mistakes they have made in the future, so they will not be made at all. (He is horrified that he has allowed this conversation to occur, that the creator of the Daleks now has the ability to imagine time travel and its effects upon Dalek development. The Daleks have always been obsessed with time travel, wanting to spread themselves throughout time as well as space. Is this conversation where that desire came from?) He refuses.

“You will tell me because you have a weakness that I have totally eliminated from the minds of the Daleks so they will always be superior. A weakness that will make you give me the knowledge to change the future. You are afflicted with a conscience.”

Harry and Sarah are restrained. Davros lays down the ultimatum: he will tell Davros of every failure of the Daleks in the future, or his friends will suffer. Sarah and Harry both tell him not to, and Davros subjects them to pain. Neither one of them calls out, but the soft gasps they make as they try to contain the urge to scream tears at his hearts.

“All right, all right! Just leave them alone.” (He does not look at his companions, nor does he dwell on his defeat. He cannot let his friends suffer.) He launches straight into a comprehensive list about future flaws, talking until the tape Davros has set up runs out.

Davros is vicious enough to thank him. “What you have told me will be invaluable. All this information, this foreknowledge,” – Davros revels in his moment of superiority – “its value is priceless; beyond computation.”

[Later, the tape is recovered and destroyed. But Davros had still heard the information himself, and perhaps he had had time before the end to begin programming some of this information, because there are a few minor victories scattered through time and space that become defeats as time shifts. Whether this effect occurred because of the knowledge he revealed is immaterial; they occurred as a direct result of his presence on Skaro during the genesis of the Daleks, and as such, he carries the weight of these failures with him for the rest of time.]

He tries once more, in desperation, to reach this man of science, to make him see what he is doing. It is still not too late to turn back. But Davros is beyond his help. 

“To know that life and death on such a scale was my choice.” Davros crows madly. “That power would set me above the gods. And through the Daleks, I shall have that power!”

He cold bloodedly threatens to end Davros’s life if he does not destroy the Daleks. (He cannot help but think of The Rani and The Master in this moment, because he doesn’t know if he really means it, and he wonders if they did, the first time they had ever seriously made that threat.) But then something strikes him from behind (and he is grateful that he may never know whether he would have gone through with it.)

-

“The Time Lord gave me three options.” He tells his companions gravely. “There’s only one still open. Genocide.” And then…then, he’ll consider whether he needs a new Name. “I’m going to destroy the Daleks forever.” 

-

He stares at the wires in his hands. “Just touch these two strands together and the Daleks are finished. Have I that right?”

“You can’t doubt it.” Sarah whispers.

“Well, I do.” Can he commit genocide like this? “The final responsibility is mine, and mine alone.” Killing a Dalek in self-defence is one thing, but destroying the new-born, vulnerable creatures that have no choice of their own and cannot defend themselves? “If someone who knew the future pointed out a child to you and told you that that child would grow up totally evil, to be a ruthless dictator who would destroy millions of lives, could you then kill that child?”

The question throws Sarah, and she does not have an answer for it. “We’re talking about the Daleks. The most evil creatures ever invented.”

“Do I have the right?” He does not know. “Hundreds of millions of people, thousands of generations can live without fear, in peace, and never even know the word ‘Dalek.’” All of those innocent lives, he could save all of them. “But if I kill, wipe out a whole intelligent life form, then I become like them. I’d be no better than the Daleks.”

“Think of all the suffering there’ll be if you don’t do it.” Sarah responds.

Harry has not said anything at all. He is a doctor too, and he understands the depth of the choice better than Sarah does. He simply waits, silently supporting whatever decision is made.

The moment is in his hands and he does not know what to do with it.

One of the Kaled resistance soldiers arrives in that moment and informs them that Davros, outnumbered by their supporters, has submitted to their demands to halt the Dalek project and allow the ethical and moral conscience to be introduced into any future experiments.

His shoulders sag with relief. “I’m grateful to you,” he says, “more grateful than I can tell you.” He pulls out the detonation wire and discards it. He will never allow himself to be placed in this situation again.

-

Davros, naturally, had lied. He gathered all those who opposed him in one place and the Daleks exterminated them all. But Davros had engineered the Daleks too well and they turn on him.

“Our programming does not permit us to acknowledge that any creature is superior to the Daleks.” The first born Dalek – now designated the Dalek Commander – says. “All inferior creatures are to be considered the enemy of the Daleks and destroyed.”

Davros pleas for pity, but the Daleks have no regard for the concept. He did not give them any.

“Exterminate!”

-

The Daleks are entombed deep within the bowels of the Kaled city. But they are not destroyed. They survive.

He reassures himself with the knowledge that out of their evil must come something good. The courage and the sacrifices made by of all the people who have and will challenge their power have not been undervalued; as they would have been had the Daleks never existed. He must be content that while the evil of the Daleks may still exist, they will always be fought.

-

The Brigadier calls them back to Earth, and he goes willingly because he knew the call was going to come eventually (Harry is, after all, a member of UNIT) and he doesn’t really mind. But he also knows that this will be the last time that the Brigadier can call him like this and the last time that he will come. (Four is not Three. Four cannot be bound the way Three was.) The call comes in from Scotland, so he takes the opportunity to change his attire. (He does not think of Jamie, not at all, when he stands before the mirror in his Highlander gear. He does not think of Jamie, and does not miss being Two.) The Brigadier will just have to tolerate his whimsical nostalgia, and he tells Sarah and Harry this as they leave the TARDIS, and if the man complains about it, he will just have to find himself another Time Lord. 

When they arrive, they find The Brigadier in a kilt. Lethbridge-Stewart, from the clan Stewart, he thinks fondly. Of course the man would understand his nostalgia. (Nostalgia is not something he should be indulging. He is not young One anymore, he cannot dream about going back one day.)

“Why have you called me back? I hope you’ve got a very good reason.” The Brigadier must understand how difficult he found it to compel himself to return to UNIT once more, they have discussed this often enough when he was a different man. The Brigadier starts talking business, but the man is moving too slowly! And this makes him frustrated. He snaps angrily at the man, but The Brigadier refuses to grant him leeway this early.

“Do you want more men to die?”

Cheater. He can hardly keep whinging after that argument, can he?

“Oh, very well.” 

-

The Zygons have a great advantage over the humans, being able to assume their forms and seamlessly replace them. Everyone secretly fears that the ones they are closest to, the ones they trust, could use the intimate knowledge gained from their confidence to hurt and betray them. Betrayal is something that cuts deep; the wound festers and burns always, even if the person repents afterwards. (These fears and pains are not just limited to humans.) Doubt and mistrust are very dangerous weapons, and fear and anger are easily misdirected and exploited.

But the Zygons have a great weakness too. They have grossly underestimated the strengths of compassion, bravery and ingenuity. And these qualities are some of the finest that the human race possesses. So he knows that the Zygons will never be able to defeat humanity.

-

After the Zygons are defeated, they tramp through the woods at a leisurely pace to find the TARDIS. He tries to ignore what he knows is coming, because it feels like an ending. He doesn’t like endings.

“I can be there five minutes ago!” He tells them jovially, as they all speak about getting back to London. “Coming?”

The Brigadier watches him knowingly. “No, thank you.” He says nothing else, but he doesn’t need to. They understand one another well.

Harry understands what this is too. He has known for a while it would happen. “I think I’ll stick to Intercity this time, Doctor.” And Harry is also a Doctor; he has a calling of his own here on Earth.

“Sarah?” He asks he gently, uncertain whether she knows. (“I haven’t seen you in years,” she had said.) “No?”

“All right.” She says firmly, then smiles. “Providing we do go straight back to London.”

“I promise.” He says mildly.

(But the TARDIS doesn’t promise.) 

He keeps an eye on Harry and The Brigadier via the monitor as the TARDIS dematerialises. Goodbye UNIT, he thinks. Contract terminated, advisory capacity ended, employment over. No more working for UNIT. Oh, he knows he may run into them now and then throughout time, but it will never be the same as it was. They will be soldiers and guns again, and he is an alien, and while there will always be a respect for each other, there will also be a wary mistrust too. He does not regret leaving UNIT behind, but he will miss his friends. (The Brigadier, Benton, Harry. And they will miss him too.)

He knows what kind of man he is this time around, and he has learnt from the mistakes of the man before him. Three spent far too long looking back into the past, grieving over the freedom of One and cursing the consequences he inherited from Two. Three spent so long looking back, fighting the urge to look back, and refusing to acknowledge that he was looking back, that the damage he caused to himself ending up destroying him. 

He runs much faster and much harder and far longer than Three was ever able. And he decides that he cannot look back at all, because he knows that that would destroy him too. He must keep moving forward or risk losing his momentum and (for Three’s sake) he will not allow that damage to be done to his mind again.

So he bids farewell to UNIT, (ignores the pang of future loss that strikes him) as he grins at Sarah across the console room, and throws the TARDIS into flight. And into the future.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a reward for your patience, you can see that this is now going to be a series. For those of you who wondered about the future direction of this story: ‘The First Rule,’ as I have stated, is Classic Who, basically Before War. But eventually, I will cover the War, and After War components of the Who Universe as well!
> 
> This foreshadowing is VERY obvious in the Genesis of the Daleks section.
> 
> I accept comments and kudos as expressions of forgiveness, and incentive to write chapters faster.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The Three Doctors; The Green Death; Invasion of the Dinosaurs; Planet of the Spiders; Robot; Genesis of the Daleks; The Five Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	13. Echoes of a Future Past (Four)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. Much. Tom. Baker. *Deep breath* Here we go.
> 
> For all those who believe Leela should have died heroically, instead of marrying a Time Lord: it’s the thought that counts, right?

-13-

-

The Time Lords, despite all of his recent protests, are still overbearing and interfering irritants. He could challenge them over this latest deployment, he could – but he doesn’t. He knows that if he does, he will not be able to resist bringing up the previous mess with the Daleks and Davros, and he is worried about the ramifications that would arise if that incident became wider knowledge. So he rants at Sarah instead and eventually decides that he may as well look in the matter since he is wherever-here-is anyway. (He finds it satisfying that they didn’t send an actual messenger this time – clearly the Council knew he would have roughhoused with the Meddler and then refused the task. Above all else, the Monk is a coward.) He blames Sarah for his decision to remain, needling his curiosity. 

When he works out where they are, he feels wary. Not because the Time Lords are using him to avoid implication (again), but because there are powerful time currents surrounding the planet of Karn. Both shadows from the past and wisps of the future bleed from the vortex and they disturb him in some manner he cannot place. The Sisterhood of Karn are involved somehow, past or future he does not know (so probably future) and the war criminal Morbius looms out of the darkness from Time Lord history. He must take action.

(He does not think of his other selves very often, as Four, and never unawares. Unlike his past selves, it is not due to concern, agony or bitterness – there is simply so much noise and knowledge in his mind already that they do not take up much space in his thoughts. But these time currents are causing a stir within him and he easily gives old memories the extra space they need without any particular effort or effect.) 

(And when the mind of Morbius reaches out to ensnare him, he is secured safely behind the echo of his other selves, and the attempt fails.)

The Sisterhood of Karn accuse him of being sent by the High Council to steal the Elixir of Life. He privately thinks that it wouldn’t surprise him if the High Council acted in their own self-interests when dealing with the Sisterhood, but he knows they wouldn’t need to steal from them (and even if they did they certainly wouldn’t send him to do the job) – there are darker and easier ways to renew a Time Lord body than the Elixir gives. Time Lords only used the Elixir when there was great difficulty in regeneration, when the process should have already begun because the old body was dead and Time holds the body steadfast in the moment before, until regeneration can occur. It is a fate all Time Lords dread. But he refuses to think on that now; the Elixir is none of his concern. He gives the Sisterhood his help, and ensures their survival.

“You expect us to show gratitude?”

The time current that passes across him in that moment tastes like a man much older than him standing on the brink of war. “Not today.” He murmurs to himself. And then the current is gone and the impression of the future with it. 

(He worries about his TARDIS. She allowed herself to be moved too willingly by the Sisterhood, especially after having fought the Time Lords so hard. She can feel the time currents more acutely than he can…and he knows she is frightened by them.)

He turns his focus back to Morbius. Morbius is just as dangerous as every corrupt Time Lord dictator of the past (and the future) was. So he strikes first.

“You really can’t go on calling yourself Morbius. There’s very little of Morbius left. Why don’t you think of another name?”

This is of course the most abhorrent insult a Time Lord can bestow – the implication that the chosen name is not applicable and that a completely new one should be taken. The insult has the desired effect on Morbius, sending the other into a maddened frenzy, and he hopes this is enough to give him the advantage in the mind-bending contest.

They begin, but it is no game between them. (All Time Lord children played the game, to develop their mental skills. The Rani had the sharpest will of everyone in their class, but not even she could beat The Master. If he could hold firm against his old friend, he can resist Morbius.) He feels images of his other selves pulled up to the surface (his past selves are clear, but the faces of the future blur and distort, the more distant ones still subject to change) and then it is the past selves of Morbius that tear forth. The time currents constrict around them both, squeezing their minds with great force. Morbius cannot endure the agony; touching his other selves destroys his mind.

But, unlike Morbius, he is caught up and buffered by his other selves, past and future, and (with their help) he outlasts the pain. The Sisterhood think he is dying, because they believe it is impossible for a Time Lord to break the First Rule of Time. Only the High One sees what is truly happening and gives him the Elixir she would have kept for herself, to free him from the cocooning echo of his other selves. (It is far harder to be torn out from within them than he would have thought.) 

He leaves as quickly as he always does, and refuses to allow them to extend their gratitude. It will be paid to him in full one day, and he suspects he will dread the day.

-

When he receives the summons to Gallifrey, his hearts break. 

He doesn’t know whether to feel despondent or relieved that they are having one of their ‘disagreements’ when it happens – Sarah has already stated that she is going to leave, she’s packed and everything, and he realises she can depart with her pride intact. He can’t take Sarah to Gallifrey. (Three had been worried about her, fretted over her future because she had entered the Death Zone alone and her mind was human. “I haven’t seen you in years,” she had/will say. If he lets her leave now, he will not be able to see her again until the time traces from the distortion have dissipated. He does not know how long that will take in human years. But if she steps onto Gallifrey, the time traces will accelerate into her past and consume her. He can’t bear the thought of bringing harm to Sarah.) He knows he cannot take Sarah to Gallifrey.

“You’re not going to regenerate again, are you?” She asks.

(There is a moment of panic when he cannot remember his next face. But there is no Australian woman with a brave heart yet.)

“Not this time.” He says softly. Not yet.

Sarah rallies herself magnificently, but he can hardly bear to look at her. He lands in where he thinks is South Croydon, or near enough, and she gathers her things.

“Don’t forget me.”

“Oh, Sarah. Don’t you forget me.” Now he does look at her, framed by the doorway. His best friend, his Sarah Jane Smith. “Till we meet again, Sarah.” If it will only be in his past and her future, until they meet again.

-

Returning to Gallifrey is just as unpleasant as he had feared. He finds it ironic that his decision to avoid anyone he knows is dashed immediately; the first people he sees are an old classmate and an old teacher – Runcible ‘The Fatuous’ (who had invented that sub-designation himself) and Cardinal Borusa – and he tries not to make conversation with them. Facing the past makes him uncomfortable. (But why does he also feel he is avoiding the future as well?) He also does his best to shun Chancellor Goth – the man’s lip curls slightly every time he looks at him or says his name in clear derision. He does his best not to respond to this: the last thing he wants to do is bring up the injustice of his old trial, and he knows Goth is waiting for the subject to be broached, so he can raise old evidence to support this new case. He leaves the man disappointed.

When he discovers the summons was the fault of The Master, he is surly. The President has been assassinated, he has been blamed – really?! Why would he come all the way back to Gallifrey just to kill the President in so obvious a manner that it leads to his immediate arrest? Especially as he spends his entire time running AWAY from Gallifrey! – and the only way he can ensure he survives long enough to catch the real culprits is to invoke Article 17. He sees no harm in that; after all, it’s not like he’s ever actually going to end up with the presidency.

He manages to convince Castellan Spandrell of his innocence (eventually, after the man has let him be fruitlessly tortured for a significant period of time) and begins hunting for The Master. His old adversary is playing a dangerous and desperate game and he knows that there can be no hesitation in his pursuit or the other man will strike. So he has no choice but to enter the matrix to track him.

Being inside the matrix is not the worst form of psychic duress he has ever experienced, but it still hurts. It is not the visually generated environment that causes him distress; it is the raw temporal energy that laces the matrix. Some believe it is fed by the Eye of Harmony, others the Untempered Schism. He certainly doesn’t care which – all he knows is that it is DISTRACTING and causing memories of his other selves to slide around inside his mind. He does not want to shut them out, but he needs to focus on The Master, so he sets them all to one side and CONCENTRATES on the current problem. He doesn’t often bear down on one single train of thought, but if he is to beat The Master he knows it is necessary. 

He’s not entirely surprised when Chancellor Goth goes from advocating his rapid execution to actually attempting to murder him outright. He has long known he can never trust the Time Lord hierarchy. But Goth is betrayed by The Master’s ambition.

When they find The Master, he is a lifeless husk of decaying flesh. (Dead? Dead?) His breath catches painfully in his throat, but he feels flummoxed. He cannot place this body’s face.

Goth rasps his dying words about his own lust for power, about The Master being at the end of his regeneration cycle. (“Another regeneration?” Three murmurs somewhere in his mind and the response is a nonchalant “something like that.”) The Master’s exposed teeth are stretched in a maniacal grin. (One sees an old grin, and words are spoken in unfamiliar voice with a remembered inflection.) He does not know what to do. (Two is reeling from the sudden shock of The Master’s appearance and his mind fractures painfully.)

Is the game really over?

Cardinal Borusa is not satisfied with the facts of the incident when he, Engin and The Castellan present them and declares they must adjust the truth for the records. The Cardinal wants to make Goth into a hero, The Master remains the great villain, and The Doctor’s presence forgotten. The charge of murder against him will be dropped, provided he will leave Gallifrey promptly once he helps them compile a new data file of the history of the man they are going to re-instate as the public enemy – The Master had erased his own records long ago. (Neither of them had ever cared for the internal politics of the High Council, he thinks almost-fondly.)

Engin asks him for information on The Master’s character. “Bad. He was evil.” The words leave his lips easily. “Cunning and resourceful. Highly developed powers of ESP and a formidable hypnotist.” (Why do his statements now sound like compliments? Is this grief, or denial? He cannot accept that The Master is dead. He had long known he had reached the end of his cycle; he must have had a plan. That man ALWAYS has a plan.) He asks Engin about the presidency, and Engin begins to talk about the symbols of office; relics from the old times.

“The Sash of Rassilon. The Key.”

(Rassilon’s name sends a chill up his spine, but he doesn’t remember why. In fact, his memories regarding Rassilon are suddenly entirely hazy. He doesn’t try to pry into them – he has learnt that lesson well enough.)

He feigns ignorance – “Tell me about Rassilon” – and he is careful to keep anything he feels he already knows tightly behind his own lips.

He listens, and as he listens, the answers to the current puzzle burst across his mind. The Master, The Sash of Rassilon, The Eye of Harmony, The Key; revenge and destruction upon Gallifrey; Tricophenylaldehyde!

He confronts The Actually-Not-Dead-At-All Master and mocks that his obsession with hatred is his weakness. (He has to say the words aloud, to tell himself not to turn his anger on this man, or they will both be lost. But, oh, is he angry. And he is firmly in denial about feeling any grief.) The Master turns a weapon on him and threatens to kill him, to finally end their game. (His belief in The Master’s statement is absolute and he doesn’t bother to wonder why.) The Master spills poisonous words of loathing and fires the weapon.

He expects to die – so he is terribly astonished when The Master only stuns him. 

The Master nearly succeeds in tearing Gallifrey and the rest of the cosmos apart in his attempt to secure more regeneration energy. In the chaos of saving everyone else he does not see what happens to his adversary, but he does not think this is the end. He may see The Master again. And possibly with a new face (but an old grin) – the exposure to the Eye of Harmony would have given him enough residual energy to somehow cheat himself another body.

Cardinal Borusa is not impressed with the damage to the Capitol (even if he did save the universe in the process) and habitually delivers him a lecture. “You will never amount to anything in the galaxy while you retain your propensity for vulgar facetiousness.”

“Yes, sir.” He says, with utmost deadpan delivery. “You’ve said that many times, sir. May I go, sir?”

As he turns to leave, he feels The Master’s absence keenly. (His old childhood friend would have had given him a wonderful score for that display of impudence in the face of obstinacy.) Borusa calls out to him before he reaches the archway and he turns back.

“Nine out of ten.” Borusa is smiling strangely, well aware of weight the comment carries.

He laughs, his spirits soaring. (Even if it hurts to admit that he misses the children that they used to be.) “Thank you, sir.”

As The Castellan and Engin see him off and he prepares to step into his TARDIS, he catches sight of an old grandfather clock sitting idly in an unnoticeable corner; unassuming, archaic and completely ignorable to everyone who did not wish to see it. Even as his hearts contract with trepidation about the future, he suppresses a smile.

It looks like he will indeed see The Master again.

-

They haven’t been in the village long before they hear the story about the fearsome beast that stalks the bordering forest and Leela is eager to test her skills and locate it. He humours her; he is quite curious to see the creature too. He follows Leela through the exotic undergrowth and is impressed with her natural tracking abilities, though he feels great pride when she elaborates her instinctual observations with new knowledge she has gained from him. 

As they close in on the animal, it ambushes them. In the short moment they are caught off guard, he berates himself for not expecting this turn of events; it had clearly learnt to how to lure in hunters by playing the part of the hunted, given its history with the people from the nearby village. It lashes out its tail and he throws himself out of the way just in time. The creature – which he has identified as being native to the planet, as he had expected it to be – claws through the air where Leela had been the moment before. She has already twisted herself up onto its back and drives her knife down, but it glances off the scaled ridges protecting the animal’s neck. It roars in fury and arcs back – Leela is dislodged and rolls across the forest floor. 

As she gets to her feet, its tail is swung around once more and it catches Leela across the middle. Her knife falls from her fingers as she is flung through the air, crashing into a nearby tree.

As he shouts her name, a time ripple surges across him, wringing him out like a sponge in an instant and he is left with base, primal instincts that are not quite his own. The muscular beast advances on its prey, bellowing its triumph. He seizes the knife and lunges for the monster that attacked his blood-sister, climbing astride it as she had. It bucks again but he rides out the motion, so the beast turns its head and snaps fiercely, trying to catch his limbs in its jaw. As it moves, ridges shift apart and he drives the knife between them, neatly severing the beast’s major artery. There is a howl of animal pain and he takes advantage of the moment to lean forward and draw the knife across the tender flesh beneath the jaw. The beast gurgles and collapses beneath him.

The smell of blood and the success of the kill enhances his hunger. He licks the knife clean in a smooth motion and hands it back to his blood-sister, who is staring at the beast with startled eyes. He follows her gaze – the sinewy flesh will make for lean and tough meat, but it will do in a pinch.

“Come on now, before it spoils. You flay the meat and I’ll start the fire.” He grins wildly at her, as she perks up. “We’ll make a proper feast out of it.”

He is partway through a haunch section, eagerly tearing strips off with his teeth, when the time ripple relinquishes its influence. 

(He is not an Androgum!) 

His stomach rebels, but he reigns in his disgust and continues to eat, only marginally slowing his pace. He cannot bear to show his horror in front of Leela, who is clearly enjoying her meal, as he does not want to humiliate her. (She wouldn’t understand the reason for his queasiness and he is unwilling to tell the tale.) There is a camaraderie that connects them in this moment that he did not expect to find, and he is pleased to let it keep. So he tries to ignore the stickiness of the almost-raw flesh in his mouth, the stains of blood on his fingertips, and continues his meal in silence. (He finds it hard to think of Two – cannot concentrate on the memories that should be there – so he thinks of Three instead, who knew the art of silence best, and the feelings of resentment which turned to tolerance.)

After this incident, he stops reprimanding Leela for her warrior instincts when she is driven to fight, and to kill, to save his life and her own. She learns the value of life quickly enough and does begin to regulate her own behaviour because she chooses to herself, but he understands the instincts of her nature still burn within her. She is a warrior of the Sevateem tribe, (his blood-sister,) and she always will be. He respects her for that. But he does not feast on any meat with her again.

-

Leela has superb instincts. Sometimes, when his mind is so busy with the expanse of time, he forgets this. 

He collapses suddenly, is unsure why, but brushes off her concern – with a mind so crowded as his (with knowledge of the universe, with distant and close memories of his other selves) he is bound to burn out now and then. He speaks without paying attention, his mind everywhere else but on her, and he calls her a savage. Her response is somewhat cold.

“I am not ashamed of what I am and I tell you, Doctor, I can smell danger.”

(He has hurt her, he realises.)

(He thinks of blood and instincts and a nature that was not his own. He feels ashamed.)

And later, when he realises that she had been right and a foreign power is trying to invade his mind, trying to use him to kill her, he attempts to scream for her but he can’t. (Two is screaming with him, but neither of them can be heard.) All he can say is “I can’t” over and over again.

He puts his body into Leela’s hands, withdrawing into himself to fight back against the Nucleus possessing him. It seems to thrive on intellectual activity, so he tries not thinking. It only takes a moment to conclude that this is too boring to sustain. So he finds the small corners of his mind where his other selves thrive and unleashes them with a flourish, draping them across his thoughts like a blanket. He hides himself safely behind them. If HE can’t understand his own mind when all of his other selves are bleeding through into the present, how on earth will the Nucleus cope with them?

When he risks surfacing to see where his body is (trusting his mind will be shielded against the invasion for a few moments – the shadows of his other selves can hold an attack at bay for a short while without him if necessary) he finds that Leela is not there, but a scientist – probably of a medical profession – is taking care of him. The man babbles out some jargon before casually pointing out his assistant.

“Hello,” he says, peering around the professor.

“Hello,” the metal dog says back.

He doesn’t have time to say anything else – he has begun to think too fast again and he is worried about the state of his mind. He dives back in to check on his other selves. They shift and sigh around him as their thoughts spill over the Nucleus. He keeps his distance from them cautiously. (He can already feel the strange pull of their echoes, the yearning to examine the places where their memories overlap. Memories of black holes and supernovas, anti-matter organisms and Omega, call out. There are three sets of those memories now and the incident has been fully completed. His curiosity is almost overwhelming; he longs to take up the memories and lay them atop one another, to see how the incident looks in its entirety without the subjective experience of being one of the versions who lived through it. But no, now is not the time for such frivolity. He must stay focused and keep himself apart from his past – and his future, because he can feel those other selves whispering at him too.) He knows it will not be wise to become entangled with any of them.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds Leela has arrived and has been keeping watch over him. (He wants to apologise for the hurtful remark he made earlier but, as Four, he is not very good at apologising. Two almost manages it, close enough to the surface to influence his speech, but Leela is holding a gun not her knife; the thought of a long-lost companion stutters out and Two sinks back into their mind.) The metal dog is also still there, so he begins to speak to it instead.

“K9,” he says, “cloning techniques.”

As the dog responds, he realises with shock that he had just used its name. He cannot remember whether anyone had mentioned it before, but they must have done. Otherwise, how would he have known it?

To defeat the Nucleus, he needs Leela. She is a huntress, driven by instinct and intuition. He knows that she will sense the answer before he can think of it. And indeed it is Leela who provides the answer – the solution had been lying in her blood all along. They both watch as the scientists hurry to cultivate the chemical strain which will destroy the Nucleus and its spawn.

“I thought you didn’t like killing.” Leela says to him.

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you doing all this?”

(There is a fine balance he is forced to walk at all times. He has felt it most keenly in this body than the others that have come before it.) “Everything has its place. Otherwise the delicate balance of the whole cosmos is destroyed.” (He will continue treading along this tightrope, for the sake of the universe, and trust that his companions will always be there to prevent him from falling off.)

But he still hesitates a moment when he is handed the samples. (He is forced to walk the line, but he does not enjoy it.)

As Leela moves into the TARDIS, he pauses. (He trusts Leela’s instincts to guide him. But his mind is still clouded by thoughts of the others. He needs someone he trusts to be clear minded and logical, as he cannot be at this time.) “I don’t suppose we could borrow K9, could we?”

“Of course,” the professor says amicably. “K9, obey The Doctor.”

“Affirmative.”

K9 saves his life and exhausts his reserves in the process. Many people – stunted and stupid little minds – would have not heard the conviction and the satisfaction in K9’s voice as he reports this. The little metal dog is prepared to remain behind and die, and all for him. He most certainly will not allow this! He orders Leela to take K9 back to the TARDIS (where they will both be safe) and he remains behind instead, to finish what he started.

In the end he follows Leela’s original suggestion – and blows them all up.

“Shall we return K9 to the professor?” Leela asks.

(Nooooooooooo, his inner child wails.)

They go back. (He tries not to look at the little metal dog with longing.)

“I think K9 has taken to you.” The professor leans in to murmur. “You could do me a great favour if…”

“Take K9 with us?” Leela concludes.

“No,” he says in a kneejerk reaction. (Refuse! Deny!)

“Yes, please, Doctor, please, please, let’s take him.” Leela pleads.

While they have all been talking, K9 makes up his own mind and trundles forward into the TARDIS. He watches the little metal dog with a solemn and very dignified – very grown up – expression. But when they follow him into the TARDIS and Leela’s attention is elsewhere, he grins widely.

-

Gallifrey.

One had fled so many years ago. (One had been plucked back alone by a distortion; Two torn from time, but at least with company.) Two had been forced to summon help, for the sake of linear beings, and was prosecuted for his compassion. Three had been exiled and refused to even consider the possibility of returning (stolen from time, the deprivation of choice made him angry), and even when his exile was lifted he kept his distance. And now him; he is the only one who has returned willingly. First, to save the President (though mainly the universe) from The Master, and now again, staging an alliance with an invading force, to protect the planet from the dangers of a REAL invasion. (There have been no whispers, nothing, from the Daleks about Skaro and their genesis, but he knows that Time is not linear and the Daleks crave vengeance. Retaliation will come eventually. The Time Lords must be ready when it does. He will not return to bail them out.)

He is sure there is someone, somewhere, sometime, laughing at this irony. He has chosen of his (mostly) own free will to become embroiled in the convoluted politics of the hierarchy once again. (He is not sure whether this means he is stronger than his previous selves – returning to face what they feared – or just more foolish than they had been, believing he was strong enough to do it. He decides not to try and work out which it is.) He does wonder whether this would suffice as some bizarre form of penance, the fact that he has ended up with the presidency. (Him, as President? There has never been a more preposterous notion!)

His true efforts to preserve peace are being hampered by Chancellor Borusa and Castellan Kelner, bickering away at each other as usual. They have disliked each other for centuries, always trying to outdo one another for more power. Borusa seems particularily outraged that his authority is being challenged, though he conceals it well. He doesn’t have time to comfort the man; there is an invasion to stage, and prevent. 

He sets himself up as a figurehead for blame. (This is quite easy to do – people have been blaming him for the wrongs of the universe since he was a child.) Some people whisper that he had always secretly craved power; some whisper that he had long wanted revenge on the society that shunned him and he shunned in return. The elders who had never liked him, the stagnant minds obsessed with their own self-importance, they murmur softly about the company he kept when he was a student. They quietly mention The Rani and (more loudly) The Master – labelling all three of them as Renegades in a single breath – and suggest that perhaps he is not as far removed from their madness as everyone believed.

(Madness, he thinks, is a subjective term. The Time Lords do not use the word for ‘insanity’; they use it for anyone who is ‘different.’ And that is why he never contradicts any of the non-temporal beings when they call him “mad.” He has always been different, even amongst his own people.)

Eventually, the crisis is resolved and the invasion forces neutralised. He tells everyone, including himself, that the discharge from the Dermat gun wiped his memory of recent events. (The “Wisdom of Rassilon,” Borusa says reverently and he suppresses a shudder, borne of past impressions of the future.) Memory loss means the only way he can be prosecuted is officially, with a mind probe to recover the facts. (He knows that no member of the High Council will risk using the mind probe on him. It will reveal the temporal Rules he has broken, and the public revolt will bring chaos to the very fabric of Time.) The need for a(nother) trial is quietly dismissed and his involvement in this affair declared to be ‘providing a public service.’ Members of the guard applaud him! He wants to laugh (or cry or perhaps scream) over the politics.

He makes sure to very emphatically declare: “Not coming back again” to anyone who will listen as he prepares to leave.

Leela decides she wishes to remain on Gallifrey, with Commander Andred. He (reluctantly) decides that Andred deserves her: Andred clearly respects her non-linear simplicity. 

Andred looks at him tentatively. “I hope…” He begins.

He cuts the boy off, assuring him that Leela will look after him – her prowess with a knife helps – but he levels a look of understanding at Andred that speaks volumes.

(On Gallifrey – where time currents are thick in the air – her linear timeline is obvious to all Time Lords who look at her. If they look more deeply, they will see the future that could be written for her, visible on Gallifrey as it would be nowhere else in the universe: if Leela re-enters linear time, she will die a warrior’s death within 24 of her hours. He cannot bear the thought and it hurts just to look at her. She does not have the knowledge to see this, but her instincts are still as sharp as they have ever been. Her intuition knows Andred is her future; her life. She has developed an appreciation for life, after all the time she has spent travelling with him in the TARDIS. She and Andred will be happy together, though the boy will mourn her dreadfully when she succumbs to her fleeting span of age.)

He is more grateful than he can put into words that she has chosen to remain on Gallifrey. He could not let his (blood-sister) Leela fall in battle, even if part of her still wished for such an end.

He turns to K9, and pretends to expect the dog to follow him. K9 responds exactly as he had hoped he would: declaring he would remain also to protect his mistress. (He and K9 both know that he wants K9 to stay with her – he is determined not to let the Time Lords dampen her spirit or treat her ignorance as stupidity.) Between Andred’s determination, K9’s wisdom and her own sharp instincts, Leela will not be subdued by the intimidating surroundings of her new life. She will be fine.

(He refuses to feel lonely.) 

When he gets back into the TARDIS, he sets straight to work on K9 Mark II.

-

K9 Mark II is not quite the same as K9 Mark I, but he had not expected them to be. Their software is configured rather differently, but the core programming remains the same. In fact, it is almost like regeneration. (Warmth and empathy bloom in his chest.) And so he treats it as such; addresses this new K9 just as he would the old K9, while making tolerances for new idiosyncrasies, discovered as K9 gets to grips with his new software. 

-

The White Guardian summons him. 

This is never a good sign. (And why is it that he is still the summons-boy of the universe?! None of his past selves were called upon this frequently. It is NOT FAIR.) The White Guardian calmly and detachedly explains about the Key to Time and The Black Guardian’s plans for the universe, and so he accepts the task (even if he is unhappy about being deployed for someone else’s errand again). He understands that The Guardians are limited in what action they can take. 

But when he is told that he is going to be given an assistant for his quest – the implication that they will be a Time Lord is obvious – he almost throws a tantrum. (Travelling with another Time Lord is not wise; having someone who UNDERSTANDS Time with him is very dangerous. His personal time stream is broken and twisted, his past and his future intertwined; they will SEE it, they will KNOW. The First Rule should NEVER be broken and he will be raw and exposed before them – if they care, they will be disturbed; and if they don’t, they will be malicious enough to slowly tear him apart over the inconsistencies in his memories. It will be torture.) It is only because he is in the presence of The White Guardian that reigns in his childish impulse. He has to be grown up sometimes, and the seriousness of this situation is definitely one of those times. He (unfortunately) IS going to need someone else who can perceive temporal planes to help gather the Key, or they will never manage it in time. So he (grudgingly) agrees to an assistant.

(He is prepared to not like her. It will make things easier this way, if he refuses to let her in. If he gets too close she will realise there is something – wrong – with him. He is resolute in his belief that she must be nothing more than a colleague to him. He has had plenty of experience with alienating his colleagues with he was Three; hopefully those traits have been retained. And if nothing else, he knows exactly how to behave in order to irritate people.)

He casts a swift assessing glance at her and gains his first impressions. She is elegant and proud; a graduate with a high academic history – very detailed subject work, she has a vast knowledge of theory, but has not yet bothered to apply herself to more practical works. This is her first body, she has never regenerated before. (Never had a body, another self, die.) She’s young, very young in fact, which supports his earlier deduction regarding her intelligence; he estimates somewhere in her early hundreds, but no older than one fifty. (Later, when she states she is a hundred and forty, he tries not to feel smug.) She is quick to identify the greater picture, but he suspects she cares not for any gaps in her knowledge because she believes they are unimportant.

Well he may be able to do something about that, he thinks, before he remembers that he shouldn’t actually care.

“My name is Romanadvoratrelundar.” He makes a half-hearted quip, which she ignores and she continues on in a confident manner, sounding as droll and boring as the hierarchy she still believes in. He is quite prepared to write her off immediately as a lost cause. But then suddenly, there is a flash of life in her eyes. “It’s very exciting, isn’t it?”

He responds in the most condescending tone he can manage. “Yes, I suppose it must be for someone as young and inexperienced as you are.”

“I may be inexperienced.” Her tone is self-assured. “But I did graduate from the Academy with a triple first.” He scoffs. “It’s better than scraping through with fifty one percent at the second attempt.”

He reacts with outrage and bluster, as she no doubt expects. He finds it easier to dismiss the signs that she has potential when he discovers she has meddled with the TARDIS. (He wonders what the TARDIS thinks of this Romanadvoratrelundar. The old girl is being conspicuously quiet.)

“What would you like me to do?”

This moment, he thinks, is paramount in ensuring her already forming distaste for him.

“I’d like you to stay out of my way as much as possible.”

Sure enough, her reaction is as diplomatically hostile as the soldiers from UNIT had been. (He feels a kinship with Three, but quickly tosses the thought. It is dangerous to let his mind linger on his other selves while she is around.) He carries on with his work with an indifference that irks her sense of efficiency, deciding she does not like him very much. It doesn’t take her long to bring up his ‘old age’ – he snaps and retorts as irritably as he can (remember One doing). He deigns not to bring up her age, simply because he’s been reliably informed that you shouldn’t do that sort of thing with a lady (and he doesn’t want to remember that even when he was as young as she is, he already had blood on his hands).

Unfortunately, this woman is smart and despite her dislike of him, she will not pass up the opportunity of this assignment. “Before I met you, I was even willing to be impressed.” She tries not to smile, in a cat-stalking-the-canary sort of way. “Now I realise that your behaviour simply derives from a sub-transitory experiential hypertoid-induced condtion, aggravated, I expect, by multi-encephalogical tensions.” (He lets her think that. The reality is far more severe.)

He lays out some rules for her, (the standard yet irritating linear-being ones,) just as he would for any other companion. “Rule one, do exactly as I say. Rule two, stick close to me. And rule three, let me do all the talking.” (He catches his breath. ‘Companion?’ When did she become that? No, no, she is his ‘assistant,’ his colleague, and that is all. He will not become attached to her.) “One more thing: your name.”

“What about my name?”

“It’s too long. By the time I’ve called out, ‘Look out…’ What’s your name?” She bites her name out deliberately. She looks aggrieved already that he has refused to use it. “By the time I’ve called that out, you could be dead. I’ll call you Romana.”

The shortening of her name is a calculated risk. He has disregarded the title she has chosen for herself, which is blatantly disrespectful; but the reasons he has given her for doing so speak of a concern for her well-being. The fact that he has abridged her name could be an intimate gesture, as it still gives weight to the original; the fact that he doesn’t ask her permission says that he doesn’t care for her at all. The ambiguity of all of these things together suggests he believes the matter to be unimportant, despite the fact that there is nothing more Important amongst Time Lords than the selection of one’s own Name. 

She tries to keep her tone unruffled, but her eyes turn frosty, working out whether to take offense. “I don’t like Romana.”

“It’s either Romana or Fred.”

“All right, call me Fred.”

“Good. Come on, Romana.”

(Her name will determine their relationship. If she accepts ‘Romana,’ they will become firm friends; if she rejects it, she will despise him for eternity. He does not quite know which outcome he prefers.)

They pass a man with an earth accent. He stops to think, and she talks of gazettes and books while he thinks of the universe. The workings of his mind broaden as his train of thought multiplies and grows. There is a plot here, perhaps involved in their quest, perhaps separate. But he and Romana will have to overcome their differences, at least temporarily, to ultimately be successful. (Memories drift lightly across this sentiment, because he knows it is not as hopeless as he may believe: “Fight it my boy, fight it!” – Five’s expression stirs.) Words leave his lips about a leg-spinner, and she turns to him in confusion. He brushes off her questions, even as he mimes pitching a cricket ball down the hall. 

“Nothing, nothing.” He says hastily as he turns away from her. (He wraps Five up behind his past selves – the ones that you are allowed to remember, because they belong in your past – and for the first time HE buries his other selves snugly away deep in his mind where they will be safe.) “Remember Rule One.” (The First Rule. She must not find out.) “Come on.”

Thankfully, she does not seem to notice. Her thoughts are already fixated on the Key and she has no time for his trivialities.

He continues to call her Romana. “That’s my friend, Romana.” (Friend slips out by accident, but he doesn’t notice at first because he is too distracted by the fact that she has begun to acknowledge the name.) Somehow, it begins to sound more like a term of endearment, of comradeship and friendship. He does not know how this has happened. (He’s not supposed to like her. It’s not safe for either of them! And she doesn’t even like him.)

They get caught up into trouble quickly, and she begins to understand that the galaxy can be a more frightful and dangerous (and interesting and exciting) place than her books could have told her. 

“There’s no comfort in dying.” Their fellow prisoner says.

He laughs this comment off. He sees Romana watching him closely. He fears the discussion that she will inevitably want to broach. He does not want to talk about dying…or about regeneration.

They escape, running circles around tricksters and soldiers, and eventually they are successful; claiming the first segment of the Key. (He had been running swiftly during the adventure, both physically and mentally, and she had not hesitated once in her attempt to keep up. He is impressed with her potential.) He insists that she is the one to change it back into its true form. 

-

Despite the fact that they both know they are growing fond of each other, the moment still takes them both by surprise. She introduces herself.

“I’m Romana.”

It’s the first time SHE has used the name to address herself, as opposed to merely acknowledging it or responding to it. She startles and her lips part slightly in astonishment as she stares at him. He stares back.

“Romana.” She murmurs softly to herself. “I’m Romana.”

“Yes,” he says, throwing out his arms as he grins widely. “This is my friend, Romana.”

She smiles warmly. “And I see you’ve already met my friend, The Doctor.”

-

In their hunt for the final segment he is forced to use the Key in order to save millions of lives. As they are a segment short, he fashions a temporary piece and slots it into place. As Romana speaks to him, he stares at the Key: Six pieces, unique in their own way, all slotting together to form a whole. (Omega – Androgums – Tombs – He has counted Six pieces, even if there are only Four in this present moment. What will the whole picture look like when Six becomes the present one?) “Nothing lasts forever.” (He ignores the moment of grief and loneliness that squeezes the breath out of him. He doesn’t have the time to think of his past/present/future selves.) He and Romana split up in order to improve their chances of success.

To his great surprise, he encounters Drax. It takes a moment for them to place each other – Drax recalls the nickname ‘Theta Sigma’ before anything else and automatically calls him that while trying to remember his Name. He reminds Drax coolly to address him as “Doctor” and there is an awkward silence. (Their class had all been aware of the nickname. It had slyly been given to him by his friend in honour of the utter failures of his eighth and eighteenth components of his time experiments – which coincidently had resulted in a vector disturbance of 209 – and he had christened his friend ‘Omicron Pi’ in good-natured retaliation for the same reason; The Master’s vector failures had tallied to 150. The nicknames were only used by each other.) Drax offers up ‘no offense’ rather embarrassedly and he blankly responds none was taken. Their conversation moves on. Drax had gotten into armaments. (But as that had originally been the War Chief’s fault, he doesn’t hold the past against him.) Drax also reveals that he had been stuck on Earth for a short period, and though he doesn’t really explain why it was obviously due to one of the Meddling Monk’s senseless schemes. Drax had always trailed after the Monk when they had been in school.

The Black Guardian cannot lay his hands directly upon the Key, but that does not mean he is not capable of manipulating the time currents as much he is permitted too. The time stream is twisted horrifically around every atom that surrounds them. The linear beings only perceive it on a subconscious level as an uneasy feeling. But those with temporal awareness – himself, Romana, Drax, even The Shadow – all tremble beneath the sharp pressure. Eroding their strength and tearing at their defences, it is the perfect method in attacking a Time Lord, one that has always been successful. They all do their best to function despite the chaos that stalks them.

Drax is unimaginative and temporal theory has never been his strong point. While he frets over his present and his future, damage spirals backwards along his time stream without his notice. Drax does not even stop to wonder why he had spent years trapped on this planet with the means to escape but no initiative to make the attempt. He had swathed himself within his old earth persona as a coping mechanism and never questions the lull in his time stream. His ignorance is the only thing that preserves his sanity.

Romana has only ever lived on Gallifrey, before travelling with him. She is well aware of the theoretical applications of the assault, but she is not prepared for the way it shatters apart her senses. This, in conjunction with the physical torture she suffers at the hands of The Shadow, tricks her mind into believing her body is dying. It triggers the onset of her regeneration. But Romana’s mind is strong and she tapers it down, refusing to allow the process to begin before she has time to deal with it.

The Shadow tries to take advantage of the damage being wrought by the shifting time eddies, but he is a temporal being also and is not immune. He is so obsessed with the Moment of his victory that he determines that no other moments can be of importance. His arrogance blinds him to the finer details, and ultimately costs him the game and his life.

But he is a different story. He is completely unaffected by The Black Guardian’s manipulations – he has suffered far worse damage contravening the First Rule of Time. His thoughts blur and constrict slightly and he can feel the echo of his other selves squirming in pain, but these side effects come nowhere near the agony that any of his selves have thus experienced. He continues on as normal, undeterred.

The Black Guardian is furious with him – the rage borne more from the fact that he was not devastated by the temporal attack as the Guardian had intended, rather than the fact that he completed the Key, then chose to dismantle it again to spare Princess Astra, and thus defeated him – and vows vengeance. He expects he will encounter the Black Guardian again quite soon.

-

Romana’s regeneration is relaxed, painless and graceful. She has such a highly disciplined and academic mind that she is able to treat the whole thing like an interesting experiment, concentrating on altering her physical appearance while her personality hovers somewhere between One and Two, easing gently into the change. (It hurts, it hurts so much, just to watch her, because – even though he is thankful that she doesn’t have to suffer the way he did – all he can think of is the pain he had to bear.) He makes an effort to be considerate and helpful, as he remembers the fear and uncertainty the change can bring. He talks to her of regeneration as it is happening, offering her small anecdotes of his own to flesh out her theoretical knowledge.

“How many have you had?” Romana (One) asks eventually as she inspects her latest attempt at a new body in the mirror. She has been trying on different physical traits much the same way he had tried on clothes when he became Four. He does not suggest that she stop: her cycling through bodies is skimming the excess of her regeneration energy and should lessen the risk of her suffering any unforeseen aftereffects. She looks unsatisfied with this latest body, her new eyebrows slanting downwards.

“Three.” He tells her, looking away to examine the damage done to K9 by The Shadow.

“Were they all the same?” She twists around and peers over her shoulder as she changes again, broadening out her figure as she adds long dark hair. “What did they feel like?”

He pauses. Romana (One) is not being cruel, he knows, her interest is scientific. So his answer is completely honest. “Like dying.” (He thinks of an aged body and a failing mind; a forced regeneration, shattering him apart; his mental barriers gone and his body slowly degrading from the inside out.) “I was dying.” He can’t articulate the experiences any better than that.

Romana (One) turns to him and he forces himself to meet her eyes, still unchanged. She bites her new lip tentatively. There is pain and compassion struggling to arrange itself on her unfamiliar features. “I’m sorry.” Romana (Two) says. He smiles at her and assures her it's fine. He is surprised (but grateful) when she moves into the next room so he doesn’t have to watch her continue to change. She continues to re-emerge for his opinions only when she has an entire form to show him.

When Romana (Two) emerges in a duplication of Princess Astra’s body, holding it with a natural confidence that she is unaware of, he just knows. He wants to make sure that SHE is aware of it too, wants her to understand how this body feels to her, in comparison with the others. So he tells her, in jest, to try another one. He doesn’t miss the unconscious flash of disappointment that passes over her. As she tries a few more bodies, he is supportive and constructive, shouting random advice after her while waiting for her to have her epiphany.

“How about this, Doctor?” Romana (Two) comes out wearing clothes like his, keeping her features hidden. He recognises her need for approval, and thinks fondly of the Brigadier and his scarf. Her residual regeneration energy has already begun to fade: this is the body she has chosen.

They banter playfully for a moment and he bestows her with compliments on her style. When he pulls off her hat he is unsurprised to see Astra’s face underneath. “Have it your own way.”

Romana beams as he plops the hat back onto her head. When she comes back out with a new outfit to trial with her body and he sees the long white scarf looped casually around her neck, he suppress a grin of his own.

-

They land on a planet with recent seismic activity and low level radiation. Something about the planet unsettles him, an intangible sensation that makes him want to flee back into the TARDIS and run away, but he doesn’t. He has never failed to appease his curiosity about a new planet before, and Romana will interpret such a dramatic change in his behaviour to be a negative reaction to her new persona. So he presses on, ignoring the uneasy sense that he has been here before.

When he realises they are on Skaro, he is horrified. Once he gets over the shock, he comforts himself with the thought that at least nothing could be worse. Then they find Davros and he decides the universe must hate him.

He and Romana have never discussed the Daleks before. He does not know how much she knows about them or about their genesis. He cannot hide the fact that he is intimately familiar with the creation of the Daleks, nor that he could have averted it. (He worries about what she thinks about the situation, about him.) But he does not have time to be ashamed of the past. (Why can the past not STAY in the past where it belongs?) Davros is suddenly very much alive.

“Doctor!” Davros is as cold and deranged as he had been before. “Do you believe your puny efforts can change the course of destiny?”

This makes him angry, for reasons he does not want to investigate too closely. “Let’s just say I might tamper with it.” (He cannot change that moment. He made his decision – does not know whether he regrets it or not – whether he could do something different if he had that moment again.) Davros obsesses and rants about the supremacy of the Daleks, and he tunes the old words out. He cannot look back, he will not linger on what had happened and could have been. Instead, he will do his best to defeat the Daleks and Davros here and now.

He and Romana cannot speak frankly about Gallifreyan matters under the eyes of their captors. Instead, they play a game of rock-paper-scissors. Robots have no concept of something as illogical as symbolic metaphors.

One, two, three. “Scissors cuts paper.” (‘You tried to avert their creation?’)

One, two, three. “Stalemate.” (‘I had no choice.’) One, two, three. “Stone blunts scissors.” (‘The High Council coerced me.’) One, two, three. “Stalemate.” (‘Couldn’t go through with it.’) One, two, three. “Paper wraps stone.” (‘The High Council couldn’t retaliate, because they left the decision up to me.’) The next words fall casually from his lips, as though he does not care for her reply. “What are you thinking about this? Be honest.”

Romana pauses a moment, considering the implications of everything she has discovered. “Can I have a jelly baby?” He fishes out his packet and sets it down on the table between them. She smiles at him as she takes one and pops it into her mouth. “Jelly babies are more important than stones.” (She values his friendship more than the High Council.) “It turns out that most stones aren’t actually everything you had believed them to be.”

He beams back at her. (He has not been appreciated by another Time Lord for defying the Council in such a long time. It is a welcomed change and he feels some measure of peace over his earlier decision to stand by his morals.) They end their conversation and continue to play until they can escape from their captors.

In the end, the Daleks are destroyed and Davros imprisoned. He watches Davros being placed into a cryogenic freeze and hopes this is the last he will see of the twisted man.

-

When things are quiet in the universe and in his head, he uses those cherished moments of peace to think about his other selves. His memories – the ones that are not HIS own – are cold to touch, like glass, and the thoughts of his past selves are layered together to form a multi-coloured window that he can peer through, to see the moments they have all shared together. (Multi-coloured. He chooses this word deliberately. It was significant to Two, but he doesn’t remember why; though an impression lingers of a young American girl talking to him of a Jacket.)

Whenever he deliberately thinks of his other selves, it is always his past selves that burn brightest in his memory. Of course it is – he used to exist as them, he remembers what it was like to be them – but it is also because the selves who broke the First Rule of Time the first time, with anti-matter organisms and Omega, have all done so now. It is no longer painful to think of the memories they share over that incident. (Memories of a shadowy tomb and a cellar in Seville are much harder to focus on and he leaves those incidents alone.) He is not trapped by the past and/or future like his other selves were, and he hardly ever thinks of his future selves at all. (He knows they exist; a young man who says “Fourth” as he beams; “Number Six” who tiredly defends his own fashion sense.) But often he just lets himself overlook them. They are always with him, but they sleep in his mind most of the time, drifting just beyond his reach. He does not chase after them.

He is content to let the echoes of all of his other selves lie where they will. His mind is spacious, eventful and occupied enough, to allow them to exist within his subconscious quite peacefully. None of his other selves (particularly his future selves) creep up on his thoughts unpredictably, not since those volatile few moments in the wake of his fresh regeneration. And since he has started travelling with Romana, he has not really thought of his future selves at all.

-

He is partially through a rather emotional farewell speech to the TARDIS and K9, feeling somewhat relieved that Romana isn’t currently present to share in their demise, when inspiration seizes him in the thought-form of a cricket ball. He frantically cobbles together a last second solution and they manage to escape another disaster. He laughs and revels in a moment of satisfaction, impressed with his efforts. “I just put a lot of spin on the TARDIS,” he mimes pitching a ball to demonstrate to K9. “Sometimes I think I’m wasted just rushing around the universe saving planets from destruction. With a talent like mine I might have been a great slow bowler.”

Suddenly, the image of a young man flashes before him – soft eyes, blond hair, dressed in beige and stripes – taking him completely by SURPRISE. (Oh.) As he gapes, memories implode within him and they FILL his mind entirely. (He places his hand on the young man’s shoulder as Rassilon speaks – “it’s reassuring to know that my future is in safe hands” / he calls out to the young “Doctor” – he likes this boy best of all the others / he tears his barriers apart for the sake of his future self – wishes he could have known him better – “my dear chap”)They rupture across his mind, unbidden and all-consuming for the instant they exist, before the moment passes.

(Five stands before them all – One and Two and Three reach out in desperation…but where is Four? He cannot remember! Where is FOUR?!)

Suddenly he is terrified. 

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chancellor Goth was played by Bernard Horsfall in The Deadly Assassin – he also played one of the Time Lords in The War Games. So assumption: they were the same man.
> 
> Seriously: The Doctor was unconscious in a self-induced coma when K9’s name was spoken, and no one told him when he woke up. *Seizes moment greedily for head-cannon* More on that later.
> 
> Theta – Eighth letter of the Greek alphabet; value of 9  
> Sigma – Eighteenth letter of the Greek alphabet; value of 200  
> Omicron – Fifteenth letter of the Greek alphabet; value of 70  
> Pi – Sixteenth letter of the Greek alphabet; value of 80
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The Tenth Planet; The War Games; The Three Doctors; Planet of the Spiders; Robot; Destiny of the Daleks; The Brain of Morbius; The Hand of Fear; The Deadly Assassin; The Invisible Enemy; The Invasion of Time; The Ribos Operation; The Armageddon Factor; Destiny of the Daleks; The Horns of Nimon; The Five Doctors; The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	14. The Five Doctors (Four)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Shada’ takes place straight after ‘The Horns of Nimon’ – so this chapter picks up pretty much immediately after the last one ended.

-14-

-

The man places the Third major piece down carefully, easing it into place alongside the Second, and then surveys the Time Scoop again.

The Game continues.

-

He does his best to reassure Romana (and himself) that there is absolutely nothing wrong whatsoever. Fortunately, they barely have time to catch their breath after dealing with the Nimons before the summons comes in and she doesn’t have time to ask why he is so preoccupied.

He responds to the summons from Professor Chronotis immediately though he’s not surprised that the old man isn’t there to meet them, despite the urgency of the message. Instead of waiting around he bundles Romana out of the college, hoping to find some sense of tranquillity before he has to face the old professor. He acquires a boat and they meander down the river. It feels so restful (helping him conceal the shadow of Five back underneath the splay of his louder thoughts) and peace settles over them both.

“At least with something as simple as a punt nothing can go wrong.”

The moment the words leave his lips he knows they are a mistake, but he is not prepared for the abrupt onset of disorientation that makes him flail wildly. He almost falls overboard.

When the time distortion closes around him, warping his view of Romana’s panicked and frightened expression, he wishes he was surrounded by the water instead.

-

The man surveys the Fourth major piece in consternation as the Time Scoop shudders violently. He tries to compensate for the erratic temporal disruption that has arisen, but to no avail. This piece is beyond his reach. He slams his fist down upon the console, infuriated.

-

The attempt to remove him from Time is unsuccessful. He is trapped in the time vortex, caught somewhere between Time and Out-of-Time. (It makes him feel shaky and ill / he retches dryly, shaking violently / a light feeling of nausea.) The distortion is WRONG and he convulses as it lashes across and around him.

He feels so alone – and this time, he IS all alone. (“Surely it’s Susan.” / “My dear Brigadier, it’s no good blaming me.” / “Hello, Sarah Jane.”) Agony blooms throughout him as his mind crumbles beneath the rhythm of the vortex. He does not know where he is (they are on Gallifrey, in the Death Zone), but images of the faces of his other selves dance across his vision. (One and Two and Three…and…another young man unconscious on the floor – as if called, the boy opens his eyes blearily. “You’re here. You’re here.”) There are Five of him in this present moment, even if HE is only number Four. (“Goodness me, there are five of me now!”) Pain lances across every nerve in his body and he wonders whether he is dying. (The young companions of Five are called Turlough and Tegan Jovanka – they understand regeneration – and Tegan’s eyes are haunted, because she has witnessed it.)

Where is Romana? He desperately hopes that she was not caught up by the distortion as well. He longs for the safety of her company. (The Brigadier frets over him like a nursemaid and then, once assured he was all right, conceals the worry beneath frustration. The Brigadier is older than he was when they had last met, as Two…and as Four. The Death Zone is still in The Brigadier’s future, even as it transpires NOW, and he almost faints at the horror of that thought.) But he knows that sometimes – often, where he is concerned – familiarity breeds contempt, and it can be dangerous for someone to know you too well, especially if they desire to hurt you. (The Master is wearing a new face. The man seems disappointed to encounter Three; he is used to a Doctor with a gentler temperament – perhaps Five. Three is angry. Feelings of bitterness, betrayal and hurt lie upon their last encounter, and when the thunderbolt jolts down he leaves The Master behind.) He does not want to lose any more of his friends.

His other selves are going to need him. (He is sure of this fact, even if he cannot remember why yet.) This is the only coherent thought that he can continuously sustain and he clings to it frantically. He struggles within the distortion, trying to give himself more mental space in which to manoeuvre temporally. Where are his other selves going?

(There are three ways into the Tower; above, below, and the main door – Five and One choose the main door, Two chooses below and Three chooses above.)

The distortion constricts around him and he SCREAMS. He cannot run and he cannot think – both of which his current body was driven to do. This inaction is torture. 

His past selves are in the Tower. (One searches The Master’s face for the man he knew. “Try it Doctor, it’s as easy as pi!” The grin looks the same on this new face as it had looked on the face of Omicron Pi.) They are all hurting, burdened heavily by the past and the future. (Two is confronted by Not-Quite-Zoe and Not-Quite-Jamie and learns precisely how they are going to leave him. The haunting wail that pierces the air will stay with him until death.) He cannot leave them to face this without him. (Three will not admit how much he misses the presence of his other selves. But who else does he have? As the phantoms of Mike and Liz remind him, he excels at driving others away.)

He tries once again to push the distortion out – they are going to need him soon, he needs to get closer to them – as his past selves gather in the Tomb. He remembers that it does not take the three of them long to decipher the inscription, but right now he doesn’t care about Rassilon’s ring and immortality, nor about the cryptic message “to lose is to win, and he who wins shall lose.” There is something far more important to consider: where is Five?

As he struggles desperately to find Five – he cannot search his memories, but he can try to connect telepathically with the boy’s mind (in the way that Two once connected with Six, however unintentionally, and will do again in the future) – the pull of his past selves is too overwhelming and tugs for his attention. The presence of three separate and intimately familiar minds drowns out the quiet whisper of one alone, and so he is drawn to focus his attention back onto the scene that lingers thrice in his memories already.

“Thank you gentlemen.” A man with an almost-familiar face says smoothly as he enters the tomb, a weapon drawn upon them. “That is exactly what I needed to know.”

(There is something about this confrontation, he thinks uneasily, that he doesn’t want to remember.)

The power of Rassilon’s will has been ever constant in the tomb since his past selves arrived, a presence in the room that they have all sensed, but it has left them alone. Even he can feel it from where he is trapped in limbo. Now, that will is bearing down on The Master, drumming in time to his hearts, and his eyes are alight with madness as he drifts the aim of his weapon back and forth between all three of his past selves.

“Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor. How gratifying to do it three times over!”

(!!!!!!!?!?!?!?!…………..)

(The Master is going to kill HIM.)

The Brigadier delivers a swift punch to The Master’s face and knocks him out.

He is forced to put (his old friend?)(his best enemy?) The Master out of his thoughts when the distortion squeezes him painfully again, taking advantage of his distraction to pull him further back into the time vortex. For a moment, he loses track of his past selves and he panics, thrashing in terror and screaming hoarsely as the distortion shakes him apart. He loses track of HIMSELF. His thoughts fracture (is he Two?) and even though his barriers are strong (is he Three?) he feels helpless, trapped in this infernal time distortion he cannot act (is he One?), there is NOTHING he can do. There is so much NOISE – the entire cosmos is SCREECHING around him – and he cannot hear his own thoughts over the knowledge of the universe that bombards and assaults him. And then – 

While Three is attempting to free the TARDIS, One watches as Two searches the computers for information on where their other selves are – they are all certain all five of them were brought here, but they have seen no sign of Four yet.

One and Two and Three are thinking of him. He hooks his mind onto the thoughts and drags himself back towards his other selves again. The distortion resists his efforts, biting into him with hot white pain. Five arrives by transmat with President Borusa. The three of his past selves face Borusa and challenge his will, but he wears the coronet of Rassilon and his mind is strong. Two calls out to Five to join them. Five is unresponsive, devoid of thought. (It is unnerving to consider.)

“Concentrate.” One insists. “We must be one.”

They all focus their minds on Five, calling him back to them from the darkness he is wrapped within. (His past selves need him. Five needs him. They must be one.)

He slashes his way through the distortion, reaching out for his other selves. The distortion refuses to give way but he is determined to get beyond it, even if it means tearing himself in half. As he pushes his way against the skin of the distortion, he feels sharp spikes impale into his mind, holding him firmly in place. But he will not let that stop him, not now that he is so close – he continues to press forward, ignoring the pain that slices along the rupture between him and the piece of himself that he is sacrificing to the vortex. A transparent shadow of himself is left behind as he digs his fingers into the distortion’s surface; an echoed projection, acting as a silent Watcher as he breaks through at last. His mind touches the others – he can feel One and Two and Three and he almost weeps with relief. He uses them as rungs on a ladder, pulling himself across them, and he stretches his mind out towards Five. It is easy to slip past Borusa because he is not physically present and thus is overlooked. (They must be ONE!) And finally, he touches the mind of Five as well. He adds his voice to the chorus of the other three; calling Five back from the darkness. 

Five breaks free of Borusa, and as he stands with them, a voice booms in the air.

“This is the Game of Rassilon.”

The deep rumble of words smashes into him and his mind is hurled backwards into the distortion. (His other selves are safe now, so he doesn’t fight the recoil. He has no energy left in which to struggle further anyway.) As he falls back into the bowels of the distortion, the reverberating tremor dislodges The Watcher from where he had been pinned. The distortion coils around HIM once again and The Watcher drifts out into the time vortex, his blank and hollow eyes fixed sharply on him. He thinks of Three, of Cho-Je and K’anpo, and he shudders with dread. The Watcher will find him again, in Time. The moment is prepared for.

“And what of you, Doctors?” Rassilon asks. “Do you claim immortality too?”

“No,” he gasps. “No.” (He feels so old, as he has never felt in this body before. He is suddenly aware of the years that lie upon him. He feels so tired.) He hangs limply in the icy grasp of the distortion, his body trembling and his mind throbbing. 

(“One of us is trapped.” Five says anxiously. “I know.” Rassilon responds. “He too shall be freed.”)

“You have chosen wisely, Doctor.” Rassilon’s presence fades back into obscurity. He feels the distortion grow lax around him and he yearns for the simplicity of linear time.

(He did not get the opportunity to bid farewell to his other selves.)

-

The distortion relinquishes him violently, precisely where it had taken him from, and he has enough self-awareness to throw himself forward so he crumples in the boat and not the water behind him. He knows instinctively that he has been absent from linear time for approximately two point seven seconds; his thoughts are still churning with the knowledge of the universe, even when his mind is in tatters.

“Doctor?!”

Time congeals around them as the imprint of the distortion lingers. This time, his companion is also a Time Lord, and she has highly sophisticated mental discipline; as the boat sits beneath the bridge she holds their minds in this moment.

Their eyes meet and he knows the story is laid bare on his features. She is too preoccupied with steadying him to conceal her horror at what had just transpired. After several breathless moments of pain and panic, he calms and so does she. He holds himself still, waiting (in terror) for the blow of her judgement. 

(The First Rule must never be broken – you must never cross your own time stream and you must NEVER interact with your other selves. Every Time Lord knows this. No one had ever explained to them why, nor listed any consequences, because the stigma that surrounds the Rule itself is enough. No Time Lord has ever broken the Rule before, except him. Most Time Lords recoil in horror from the very notion that the Rule could be circumvented – the merest implication of this was enough to alienate them from their peers. It had been used as the blackest of threats in the Dark Days, but even then never carried out.)

“Are you alright?” She breathes.

He considers lying. But he doesn’t. “No.” He pauses, but she may as well know everything now that she has seen it. “I never am.”

“Does it happen to you often?” She asks almost soundlessly, her face pale.

He cannot look at her. “Yes.”

She shudders in dismay. (He is prepared for the declaration that this will end their friendship and herald her departure back to the grayscale environment of Gallifrey.) Then she speaks, and the sympathy and compassion in her voice is unanticipated. “Oh, Doctor.”

“Romanadvoratrelundar…?”

For a moment, she stares at him, almost as if she does not recognise the name. (He realises that this is the first time he has addressed her by it.) Then her expression softens as she squeezes his arm. “Romana, Doctor.” 

As she sits back, linear time begins to flow again. He tries to drown out the experience in normality, and is grateful that she allows him too. “I think it’s about time for us to go and see if the Professor is back in his rooms.” He fishes out the emergency paddle, leaving his past and future aside. It was time to put his mind back to the present.

-

His mind is not quite as sharp – though still as brilliant! – as it usually is in the aftermath of the distortion, but Romana makes allowances for him and doesn’t mention it. Being around mellow and forgetful Professor Chronotis helps him breathe more easily as well; the Professor had never been an overbearing sort and probably couldn’t even discern the Rule he had just broken. He had grown rather skilled at hiding the fact nowadays (plenty of practise, after all), but he knew he needed time to assess whether he had recovered properly. (His other selves were strangely and conspicuously silent within his memory.)

And then Professor Chronotis reveals he had brought a book with him from Gallifrey, and there is no time to think about himself (or his other selves), because that book is ‘The Worshipful and Ancient Law of Gallifrey’, one of the Artefacts from the dark days. And the book is now missing.

He finds himself shouting. “Rassilon had secrets and powers that even we don’t fully understand!” (A book blurs into a ring and he wants to be sick.) Any artefact of Rassilon’s cannot be trusted!

Romana touches his arm. “Gently, Doctor.”

He shakes his head. He doesn’t have time for his memories. He has a book to find.

-

(He wonders why all of the ghosts of Time Lord legend seem to haunt him: Omega, Morbius and the Sisterhood’s Elixir, the Fendahleen. Each and every one of the artefacts of Rassilon…and even the man himself. He wonders if this is a side effect of the broken Rule, or whether the broken Rule is a side effect of his involvement with legends.)

-

When Clare willingly relinquishes the book to him, he is grateful. The truth of Time is too much for the human mind to comprehend and if she had continued to hold onto the book, viewing her past and/or her future, it would have destroyed her.

In the brief moment in which the book passes into his possession, the book shows him the truth of his time stream too. He flinches, stepping back and closing his eyes. (The sensation feels like a young girl tucked against her grandfather’s side; sounds like bright music drifting out of a recorder; smells like a lab filled with science and experiments; tastes like all the wisdom in the universe; and looks like a young man in a cricketer’s outfit/wearing a multi-coloured waistcoat instead of his usual jacket.) He smiles to himself. (To him-selves.) A wave of clarity sweeps over him, the book soothing the ache in his mind left by the distortion.

Then he is off running again.

-

When the book is stolen by Skagra, who has murdered Professor Chronotis, he despairs to the point of being prepared to call to Gallifrey for help (despite how badly that always ends for him). Romana is also so distressed that she agrees with him.

K-9 declares that his overriding directive to protect them both means that he must obliterate any attempt either of them make to involve the Time Lords.

He silently praises and worships K-9’s judgement – giving the matter more thought he realises grimly that the High Council would likely decree that the safest course of action would be to burn Earth along with their ancient secrets.

-

When he discovers that Professor Chronotis had set up a sub-routine to CROSS HIS OWN TIMELINE in order to cheat death, he wants to SCREAM at the foolish old man. But aside from momentarily DYING, Chronotis appears to have suffered no other ill-effects and is the same as he ever was. (How has the Professor’s mind shrugged that off so effortlessly? He tries not to feel bitter, but he cannot deny that he finds it unfair.) He is sure that Chronotis holds the answers to this mystery, so he holds his tongue…for the most part.

Shada. The ancient prison of the Time Lords, mysteriously forgotten from history. And imprisoned, somewhere within, was Salyavin; the great and villainous outlaw who committed atrocious mind crimes too numerous for even the High Council to list in their entirety.

Skagra, drunk on his self-assigned divine (and insane) right to replace the universe with only himself, moves forward to release Salyavin from his prison. But when the door opens, there is no one inside. And just as the crisis seems to have been averted, it is revealed that Salyavin is none other than Professor Chronotis.

(Suddenly, everything makes sense. It had been Salyavin who had arranged to cross his own time stream in order to survive – a criminal would have no qualms about bending the rules of Time if necessary. Salyavin who had enough mental power to separate himself from his other self – Chronotis – and that was why Chronotis did not suffer through anything except death for the transgression; Chronotis had been severed apart from Salyavin and the damage had been wrought in the void between them.)

(He thinks of Three; his mind so silent in the tomb, the barriers that he depended on and the ruin that awaited him when they were torn down. He shudders. He could never attempt to sever away another self from himself again.)

Skagra, now in possession of the mind of Salyavin, takes Chronotis, K-9 and Chris hostage and replaces their minds with his own. Then Skagra hijacks his TARDIS. The situation seems hopeless, but he knows that it is not. Skagra, Salyavin/Chronotis, and K-9 may know how to use the TARDIS, but none of them knows HER like he does. And Skagra may have Salyavin’s mental powers at his disposal…but not even Salyavin has experienced what it feels like to be one with your other selves. (Skagra is confident that his mind is stronger than the Doctor’s, but all five of them together had overcome the coronet of Rassilon.)

He battles against Skagra’s mind, trying to wrench back the minds that have been lost. In the end, it is precisely because Salyavin is so separate within Chronotis that makes his presence so distinctive. Salyavin stands alone within a void of cold ruin, one that he had created for himself by bending the Rules, and his eyes…make him think of what he could have become, had Three been successful in completely supressing his memories of One and Two.

“The book, Doctor.” Salyavin says simply.

He turns his mind back to Skagra, concentrating with the force of all Four selves that he has been, and drives Skagra to touch the book with his bare fingers. The book shows Skagra the truth of his own future. Shows him the truth of what it will be to bear a piece of The Doctor’s mind with him, always.

And Skagra screams and flees.

-

Salyavin was not what the legends of Gallifrey painted him as. Far from being the Great Mind Outlaw that the High Council had declared him to be, Salyavin had been nothing more than a misfit with an unusual talent. He had been different, not evil. But the High Council had feared that he wished to conquer and dominate Gallifrey, because that is precisely what they would have wished to do, had they possessed the telepathic aptitude that he had. The High Council had tried to imprison Salyavin, and he had fooled them into thinking they had succeeded, before using his powers to make everyone forget his prison. The strain of his manipulation had killed him, and in the moment of regeneration, Salyavin – in a misguided stroke of penance and self-punishment – had severed himself completely from his new self, Chronotis.

Salyavin had just been another renegade, prosecuted by those in power for not conforming to the expected norm, with his history written up by the hierarchy to suit their own purpose. Salyavin was just like him.

Romana had been considering everything that had occurred since they had responded to the summons. “Makes me wonder just how much else in Gallifreyan history has been distorted and exaggerated.” She says this softly, and it is clear that she is not thinking only about Salyavin. 

He muses about Time Lord mythology and how different the legends of his people are from the manner they have been portrayed in. (Omega, Rassilon, and now even Salyavin.) He considers the stark difference between the official records of Gallifreyan history and what had actually occurred. He thinks about his reputation, which leads him to think of The Master’s as well. He wonders what the tales will tell about both of them in the end.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if, one day, in a few hundred years’ time, someone will meet me and say, ‘Is that really The Doctor? How strange. He seems such a nice old man.’”

He does not think that history will be kind to him.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The Three Doctors; Planet of The Spiders; The Brain of Morbius; The Image of Fendahl; Shada; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge. 
> 
> Also referenced; ‘Shada – The Lost Adventure By Douglas Adams’ by Gareth Roberts.


	15. The Fourth Regeneration hurts the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Bias Alert! The very first episode of Doctor Who I ever watched was a re-run of Castrovalva, and got into the franchise from there. As Peter Davidson was my first ever Doctor, he holds a very special place in my heart.
> 
> So to prepare you all, in case you missed the amount of Five-Love that has already been shown in the other chapters: there is a shameless amount of favouritism ahead.

-15-

-

Saying goodbye to Romana is hard.

Her departure had been on the cards for a while. He has not been the same since Shada (since the distortion; the pain of being held within the vortex, of being so close to his other selves again and yet so far apart from them, the knowledge of the fact that somewhere in Time is a shorn off echo of himself that is waiting and Watching for regeneration) and nor has Romana been the same. (She is still young; the majority of her life spent comfortably within the confines of Gallifrey where the view is black and white and all the shades of grey between. But to travel through space and time in a TARDIS with The Doctor is to be exposed to the full spectrum of colour, good and bad. She had always believed in the propaganda that the High Council has spouted for centuries, given credence to the whispered tales of the renegades and the reasons they chose their lifestyles. But now she has seen the truth of the Rules – she knows about Davros and his meetings with his other selves, though they do not talk about either in depth – and she now knows what the Council is capable of. Their abuse of power frightens her.) It is not that their relationship has suffered as a result of any of this, but Time no longer sits as innocuously between them as it once had.

They fall through a gap in space and into another universe: E-Space. (They both find it highly suspect that this occurs while they were ‘on route to Gallifrey’ – Romana concludes that the Council has diverted them on purpose, and her paranoia is easily justified, though he wonders much later whether the TARDIS was being merciful to her, granting her the opportunity for a new life.) By the time they are ready to leave, to travel back to their own universe, Romana has decided to remain. (He understands that a significant factor in her decision is her desire not to return to Gallifrey: they both know that she doesn’t really belong there anymore. Sometimes it is impossible to go back home, and you have to find yourself a new home.)

They don’t have the time for any meaningful expressions of affection and respect, but that’s all right because that sort of thing was never really their style anyway. They part with crisp words and rapid banter, both knowing what the other truly means.

“I’ve got to be my own Romana.” She tells him. She wants to strike out along her own path, but she is keeping the name Romana. (Their friendship will forever be important to her.) She wants to continue the fight against injustice in E-Space (where her spirit cannot be broken or tempered by the High Council.) She has become a revolutionary. (He cannot help but be proud.) She’ll be superb.

“I’ll miss you.” He says and it is the truth.

He leaves K9 with her – both for her sake and for K9’s. If K9 returns to normal space, the price will be his long-term memories, damaged during his exposure to E-Space and the null void. K9 has the mind of a computer and the loss of his memories – the inconsistency, the inaccuracies – would destroy his personality sub-routines. (He will not allow that to happen. He knows precisely how that would feel.)

Adric is a mathematical genius, having been highly recognised for his computational skills and yet shunned and excluded by his peers and even his family. (He looks at Adric, struggling to conform, to prove himself, to impress, and he is reminded of another young boy many years ago. He thinks of other children like them and the paths they were driven down.) Adric loses his brother and stows away on the TARDIS. He does not send Adric away.

-

He spends a very long night looking at K9 Mark III, knowing that he cannot stay on the TARDIS with him any longer. Both Leela and Romana were very fond of K9, but Adric does not have the temperament to compete intellectually with a robot dog in the long-term. Reaching the decision to part with K9 permanently is heartbreaking, but he bears it with a maturity that most people believe he does not possess. The difficulty is trying to decide who to entrust K9 to – he does not think he is brave enough to look back over the long list of companions he has had (and misses desperately) – and he feels melancholy settle over him. He does not know where to begin. (He does not want to look too far back. He does not think that is wise.)

“Do you remember when we first met, K9?” He muses softly. The main thing that he thinks on in this moment is…the instinctive knowledge he had of K9’s name. Now, where had that come from?

“Affirmative, Master.”

He pats K9’s head. “You’re a good dog.” K9 says nothing in response, but lowers his head to rest against his knee. “You always kept me out of trouble.” K9 has always been relied upon to accurately predict danger.

(The memory rises lazily to his consciousness, with only the slightest hint of discomfort, but he does not focus on his past self. He and Sarah are in the Death Zone. “K9 warned me about the danger.” She had said.)

He beams. “K9. I know precisely who your new mistress is going to be.”

-

Universal harmony exists on Traken. Perhaps that is why evil is often drawn there, borne of a desire to disrupt that which is abhorrent to them. But all evil forces that come to Traken becomes a ‘Melkur’ – they are bound by their sins, frozen as a statue and eroded by their own hatred until they pass into dust. This is how it has always been. 

The Keeper calls upon him for help. Something has taken root on Traken that disturbs the Keeper: an all-pervading evil as yet unidentified. But despite this the Keeper is still hesitant to involve him, sensing something deeper at work, beyond his comprehension. He fears a “power that would obliterate even a Time Lord.” The words send shudders down his spine and a sense of foreboding settles heavily within his limbs. (He tries not to think about Rules.)

Tremas is fascinating – a kindred spirit unlooked for; a man of science, sharp instinct and clever wit. His obvious devotion and affection to his daughter, Nyssa, is plain. (The features of his face are somehow familiar too, but he cannot place where he has seen them before.) Something about Tremas reminds him of…someone. (He is filled with the warmth of laughter in a lab, time experiments that have gone wrong, and an amused conspiracy to evade the lectures of the professors.) But he cannot put his finger on it. (He dare not allow himself to admit that he knows precisely who Tremas reminds him of: his long lost childhood friend.) Tremas is betrayed by one who is dear to him, but sets aside his grief with the determination of a man who has learnt how to do so by experience and necessity. (He feels a strong sense of empathy with the man.) They both carry on.

The Melkur offers him a swift and merciful death. “Refuse, and you will regret it.” 

He refuses.

He watches as the Melkur takes control of the source, of Traken’s web of harmony, as a low and familiar sound fills the air. (But he cannot identify it – and he realises with a jolt that there are gaps in his knowledge. There is a piece of himself missing and he is drifting through Time towards it. He is incomplete without it yet unable to reclaim it before the moment it is needed.) The Melkur takes a strange pleasure in hurting Tremas in front of him, but stranger still is the satisfaction that is exuded when he instinctively leaps to Tremas’s defence. (Almost as though the Melkur finds something familiar about the scene. He certainly finds it familiar – he has often leapt to the defence of…a man who used to be much like Tremas.)

“You still do not know me, Doctor?”

(The tone is slightly ruffled, more exasperated than irritated, finding amusement rather than offense. OH! Well, in his own defence, he has been busy lately NOT finding hints of an old friend in Tremas: he hasn’t been looking elsewhere for other signs.)

“Of course, The Master.”

The Master’s body is dying, but he has enough residual temporal energy to steal himself a new one. And, for a brief moment, they both believe he is going to steal his. But then they are interrupted. It is Nyssa who destroys the source, to save the universe from the evil of the Melkur, and thus universal harmony is restored to Traken.

He bids Tremas farewell, and Nyssa also, and he and Adric depart. (He considers lingering, but he knows better than to give into the fancy of sentimentality. Tremas is not his old friend no matter how alike they seem, and it is pointless for him to cling to shadows of the long lost past. And so he leaves swiftly.)

-

[Nyssa last sees her father in the chamber. Tremas spots the old grandfather clock, standing inconspicuously against the wall. Tremas notices it when very few others would. And when he approaches it and is frozen in place, The Master slides out of his TARDIS and surveys the form before him – The Master had never really been interested in the politics and the power of Traken, he had been interested in moulding an individual into the perfect receptacle for his regeneration; the Melkur had been on Traken for many years, and it is no accident that Tremas is nearly identical in mannerisms and bearing to the young boy from centuries ago – “a new body, at last.” And then Tremas’s body is reborn.]

-

The cloister bell tolls. (His hearts jump violently.) Something is wrong with the old girl. (He thinks she is frightened, and that frightens him.) He decides to appease (calm) her and materialises around an ordinary Earth police box so he can take measurements and readjust the computations for her outer shell. 

He steps outside a moment, wanting to confirm some readings from the console, and as he turns he sees the figure standing motionlessly on the hill afar. (This time his hearts stop.) He recognises the figure instantly, of course he does, how can he not? They watch each other for a few long moments before he turns back into the TARDIS, unease churning within him. (It feels rather like he is fleeing.) There is a temporal anomaly at work here (not just the one involving his time stream) and The Master is nearby. He NEEDS to find his FOCUS. 

He sees the shadowy figure again, and it beckons to him. With a sense of resignation, he approaches The Watcher. The Watcher does not speak and, most importantly, does not attempt to touch him. (It is not yet time.) The space between them echoes with whispers of the future. The Watcher sighs softly and he trembles as knowledge blossoms gently across his mind. 

He does not answer Adric when the boy asks who the figure was. “We must be prepared for the worst.” It is as honest a warning as he can give.

And then the door bursts open and a young woman stands before them. The moment he sees her face, he knows the end is approaching. (Tegan Jovanka. The Australian woman with a brave heart. She was/will be haunted by it; she was/will be a witness to it. Her arrival heralds his imminent regeneration.) When he realises that the memories of the past/future have come to him without pain, without difficulty, recalling One and Five with a natural ease, he panics and begins babbling to Adric to hide his shock. (This has NEVER happened before, not even to him. He should not be able to see Five so clearly in his mind, because Five does not yet exist. Not yet.)

Tegan is angry and distressed, and shouts a lot at him (but this doesn’t surprise him) – then she mentions her aunt. The realisation strikes him. “Your aunt? Woman in the white hat? Red sports car?” (There was a chequered board strewn with the fodder of war, but she does not mourn the Cybermen. The Master has wronged her, it is personal, and she will not forgive him.) Her face as she works it out makes his chest seize tightly. “I’m so sorry, Tegan. I’m so sorry.”

He cannot change the past. “The Master is at work on Logopolis. I’m going to stop him if it’s the last thing I do.” Nor can he avoid his future.

“Why are you prepared for the worst, Doctor?” Adric asks.

He cannot bring himself to look across at The Watcher, standing not too far off, shadowing him. “Because he’s here.” (Because of the way his mind is so detached from the present. The way he can recall his other selves and the times they have met without pain.)

And then he sees The Master and he cannot breathe. (His face! He knows that face, he has seen it before. “Believe it or not, we were at the Academy together.” “I came here to help you. A little unwillingly, but I came.” “I knew this was going to be difficult, but I didn’t realise that even YOU would be so stupid as to make it impossible!”) Nyssa moves forward, calling happily for her father, and he holds her back.

“That’s not your father. Tremas is dead, murdered by him, The Master.”

The Master advances on him. He cannot bear to meets his gaze, and he knows that the other man has noticed and is trying to puzzle out this uncharacteristic reaction. The Master turns Nyssa upon Adric and compels Tegan into obeying his will, simply to observe his reaction. He does not respond to Nyssa’s blank expression, Adric’s pain, nor Tegan’s outburst of hatred (she will never forgive the man, never) – and instead looks in The Master’s direction with tired absolution, pointing out the man’s mistake in dabbling with the forces of Logopolis.

And then the universe is crumbling, and he and The Master have suddenly fallen upon the same side, bound together by the arrogance and blind duty of the Logopolitans which has led to this disaster. He addresses The Master, ignoring the outcries from his companions as he suggests they work together. The Master holds out his hand, a smirk on his face. He continues to avoid his gaze. To the astonishment of everyone else (The Master included) the TARDIS materialises before them. Nyssa begins to speak about The Watcher and he cuts her off, but the smirk on The Master’s face has already vanished. (He is a Time Lord. He understands the implications of The Watcher, knows what The Watcher represents.) The Master offers his hand again, and this time he takes it. They shake. And then they are off, exchanging quips and barbs like always, and he knows The Master is trying to provoke him into looking at him directly. It is annoying how well the man knows him.

“You’re assuming a lot, aren’t you, Doctor?” The Master says in his best patronising tone, one he has spent centuries perfecting. (There are things that remain constant, no matter the number of regenerations that occur. With the end looming, he takes some measure of comfort from this.)

“Yes.” He snarls, giving in and whirling around, he fixes his eyes upon those dark ones. “Aren’t I?”

Their gazes hold firm. The memory fills his mind. (“Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor.”) He stalks away, and wonders how much The Master has been able to figure out about his current/future predicament. He does not ask. He merely tells The Master they need to get to Earth.

-

[The Watcher does what he exists to do: he watches. The Watcher sees Tegan Jovanka enter the TARDIS, ensuring her place in future events; The Watcher sees The Doctor – fleeing in fear and despair in the first instance, then resigned to his (their) fate in the second instance – but they do not touch (the moment is not yet upon them). The Watcher fetches Nyssa from Traken, delivering her to the place where the events are in motion, as he knows she needs to be present. The Watcher does not speak to anyone, not in words. (His voice was given to him by the tearing of a man trapped within a distortion, within the vortex, and as such his voice consists not of words, but only screams of agony. He keeps his silence.) The Watcher communicates with thought alone. It is a simple matter: after all, he is a mere echo of thought himself. The Watcher sees The Master – the moment is approaching, growing nearer – but The Master does not see him. When The Doctor sees The Master, The Watcher can almost feel it, and he longs to be part of The Doctor once more. The TARDIS wails in anguish when The Watcher appears within her. (The TARDIS has been aware of The Watcher all along of course. In this form, a pale shadow of his Self, The Watcher can almost touch her matrix. Almost.) The TARDIS knows exactly where they need to go. The TARDIS cries as The Watcher watches The Doctor seeing The Watcher. The moment is almost upon them both. The Watcher will be back with His Self soon.]

-

He and The Master work so well together – it’s a shame they are so very rarely on the same side these days, and even then, not unless it suits The Master’s purpose. He knows the man is waiting for his opportunity and indeed, it doesn’t take long for The Master to attempt to hold the universe hostage unless they submit to his rule. 

The Master turns a weapon upon him, but he doesn’t fire. (“Killing you once” – it was not One nor Two nor Three: it will be him. This is the end.) They run out onto the gantry, engage in a brief struggle, and then the gantry begins to tip sideways. (The Master has done this deliberately of course.) He clings desperately to the structure as he crawls along to the far side, reaching for the cable that will end The Master’s ambitions. The Master watches apprehensively (that he will succeed not whether he will fall, The Master would not care whether he fell) and when the cable refuses to loosen as he pries at it, he knows he has no other choice. He launches himself off the gantry and seizes the cable. Underneath the strain of his body weight it finally pulls free.

He dangles hundreds of feet in the air, clinging to the cable. He thinks of all the foes he has defeated to reach this point, and this is how it ends? He tries to make one last ditch effort to save himself (silently railing against the curse of knowing the future) as he swings from the cable to the metal pylon. His hands curl around the bar. And then they slip off.

He falls.

-

He lands. It HURTS.

-

He lies broken on the ground. (HURTS) Every bone is his body has been shattered, turned to dust inside him. (HURTS) The presence of The Watcher keeps him intact, alive and conscious, so that regeneration can begin. (HURTS)

(Nyssa, Tegan, Sarah, Harry, Brigadier, Leela, K9/K9/K9, Romana/Romana, Adric.)

(The Master. “Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor.”)

His body is dying. (HURTS) He is about to regenerate. (HURTS) “It’s the end. But the moment has been prepared for.” His arm reaches up completely independent of his control. (HURTS) Despite the circumstances, he is impressed that his limb has the ability to move at all (HURTS) given that it is as wrecked as the rest of him is. (HURTS) The Watcher moves towards him.

[Since the moment that The Watcher had appeared from out of the vortex and began existing within the same temporal/spatial planes as The Doctor, both of them have been detached and impaired. The Watcher has experienced all of their mental agony, while remaining physically disconnected from the events, and The Doctor has received all of their physical pain, while retaining the use of his mental faculties unhindered from the usual damages involved. But neither of them can be complete without the other, and they cannot regenerate unless they are one.]

The Watcher reaches for him, and finally they touch.

-

(In the instant before regeneration begins, he hopes that all of the physical pain he is in will cancel out the mental trauma that he is about to receive, and thus it will not echo forward onto his next self.)

The Watcher becomes a part of him again much in the same way he left, only in reverse, and sharp spikes of pain lance throughout him as The Watcher is pressed back into his being and his mind is squeezed tightly and he is drowned by the sensation of memory as he regenerates.

(Trapped within the distortion, there are five of him, he searches desperately for his other selves. He cannot remember who he is – One or Two or Three or Four or Five – but he NEEDS his other selves: they must be one!) (One says “it’s reassuring to know that my future is in safe hands.” Two calls out “Doctor! We need you!” Three tears his mental barriers apart; Four tears himself in half.) (They must be one!) 

He smiles affectionately and sits up.

-

He realises immediately that something important is missing. Where is she? She has always been there when he has been dying, regenerating, becoming a new man (a new Doctor), but she is not here. Where is she?

“The TARDIS…” He breathes, and the young people (compassionate scientist; brave heart; mathematical genius – they are all important to him too he feels) gathered around him, they seem to understand because they pull him up onto his feet, supporting him firmly.

Where is she? He needs her, he has always depended heavily on her in the past during this time and this is the first time he has…changed…without her there. (Does this mean he is not The Doctor anymore? She will know; she always recognises him.) His limbs shake, ache, and his thoughts (knowledge, memories) are slipping away from him like sand through his fingers. His mind feels like it’s made from jelly all of a sudden. (Jelly babies?)

And then he is inside his TARDIS. He’ll be all right now, she will look after him. What does he need? (They must be one!) He needs to find himself. “Zero room,” he murmurs. He’ll find himself there. He moves through the corridors, abandoning his coat and begins unravelling the scarf around his neck. This scarf does not belong to him anymore.

There is a boy beside him, but he doesn’t remember the name that belongs to him. “Welcome aboard. I’m The Doctor. Or will be if this regeneration works out.” He walks along, shredding the scarf as he goes and talks about the Zero room. Zero is a number; numbers are important, though he cannot remember why. He reaches up to touch his hair and is astonished. (No more curls! Curls = Four.) “Romana’s always telling me I need a holiday.” Oh, but Romana is gone now, so four is not the number he needs. This regeneration is not as smooth as the others – as far as he can remember. (But what can he remember?) The boy talks about where he was born; where was HE born? Gallifrey, a long time ago, but he left. What else could he have done? “I wonder, boy, what would you do if you were me, hmm?” (Concentrate! They must be one!) Is one the number he needs? “Or perhaps I should ask, what would I do if I were me.” But that’s a silly question, because he cannot find himself to ask. Not the number one then. Who can he ask? What comes after one? Zero, one, two. “Not far now, Brigadier.” Brigadier! (Two met him first.) He needs to find The Brigadier, he always asks The Brigadier, so perhaps two is the number he needs. (Who is Two’s companion?) “Jamie!” (Jamie = Two, who becomes Six.) No, not two. Six? That number feels too distant, and he hopes it is not the number he needs because the faraway feeling makes him panic. “The regeneration is failing.” Six must be wrong. He sinks down onto the floor and the boy walks away. “Adric!” He pauses. “Adric. I remembered his name.” If he can remember names, he must be able to remember the numbers too. He sets off down the corridors again.

He comes across a mirror. He sees the man reflected in it and approaches cautiously. (He knows this face.) “That’s the trouble with regeneration. You never quite know what you’re going to get.” (These eyes, these eyes are important. They have been remembered from the first.) He picks up the recorder resting on the mirror and plays a few notes, but stops. Two is not the number he needs. He wanders into the cricket room and considers the clothing strung around him. He cannot recall what number comes after two (– the number had spent too long trying to separate itself from the numbers that had come before –) but there are words that go with that number. (“Our dress sense hasn’t improved much, has it?”) These clothes belong with the number he needs, so he puts them on, adding the jacket and the hat and inspects his reflection again. “Well, I suppose I’ll get used to it in time.”

He runs into a girl and another girl – he is drifting again and cannot think of any other number but Zero. “Fit as a fiddle, Vicki.” No, no, that name doesn’t belong to the brave heart before him. He has lost all the names and numbers once more. He carefully tries to draw them back. But then he speaks about Logopolis and (– HURTS, The Watcher, the self who was before him, a man with a familiar face who killed him –) he shudders, and the numbers spiral away from him.

The girls find the Zero room. He steps inside, breathes deeply and he finds the right words again. “You must be Tegan. Works even better if you close the doors, Nyssa.” He feels more like himself now. “My tussle with The Master came at precisely the wrong moment.” Another important name. The numbers are sure to follow soon. He is tired. He needs all of them to pull through this regeneration. “Every one of you.” Zero, one; the numbers are slowly returning. He sleeps, and dreams of the number he needs.

The cloister bell wakes him. There is danger – she is in danger and he is too weak to help her. He clambers desperately to the control room. He feeds the girls with frantic instructions, “always remembering, of course, not to reverse the polarity of the neutron flow” – and there is the nameless number again. Even though he knows it is not the one he needs, he wishes he could remember what it was. Guilt eats him up inside at his inability to do so: he does not want to lose any of the numbers that came before his number. “Where were we, Jo?” (Jo = unspecified-but-important-number.) The names, numbers, fail him. “Get K9 to explain it to you.” (K9 = Four; Four comes after the unspecified-number; and his number…his number comes after four.) What is his number? (What is his name?)

The girls call him ‘Doctor’ – so he still must be. (He hopes he is. That is all he knows.) They fashion a small cabinet (cabinet, not a casket – he is regenerating, not dying, he’s NOT dying) out of the remnants of the Zero room and set off towards the place that the girls say can help him: Castrovalva. But the cabinet feels too much like a casket and he drags himself out of it in a panic. (NOT dying, just regenerating.) He finds a trail of blood and follows it. There are hunters nearby. “Twelve of them at least,” he surmises. (This is an important number too. Twelve = regenerations.) He frowns, puzzled. He was regenerating, and had been trying to find something important. What had he been trying to find?

Someone calls out for The Doctor. “Everyone’s looking for him.” That’s right; he was looking for The Doctor.

He is taken into Castrovalva, and is spoken to by a man named Shardovan. A librarian, a keeper of books – words! He needs to find the right words. (Names and numbers.) He needs to rest. Shardovan escorts him to his quarters, and another man, Mergrave, offers him some medicine. He is a doctor.

“Not THE Doctor, I suppose. I came here to find him, I think.”

They speak of The Portreeve, a man of great wisdom, before they leave him alone. He inspects his medicine, and hears someone speak behind him. He turns and sees the old man who stands there – The Portreeve himself – who urges him to drink. He does so, scrunching up his face at the bitter taste. (It tastes of old memories – bitter, yes, but necessary and needed, even if all those concerned deny it.)

“You’ll very soon find The Doctor.” The Portreeve smiles in a strange way. It’s a smile he thinks he should know but he can’t find memories to compare it to. “Sleep.”

“Will I find The Doctor here?” He asks. Somehow he feels sure that this man will know The Doctor when he sees him, always.

“Oh, yes, Doctor, very soon.”

“Good.” He settles in to sleep as the man leaves. “…Doctor?” He smiles. “Doctor.” Yes, he will find The Doctor.

-

When he awakes, he has found the names again. “I’m beginning to feel quite like my old self. Or rather my new self.”

He finds it very easy to speak to The Portreeve, telling him of some of his past adventures that he can recall, and declares the number that goes with them at the end. The girls look confused by the random anecdotes, but The Portreeve nods understandingly. The girls go to visit the library and he remains with The Portreeve, who shows him a tapestry which displays images using particle projection. He finds it fascinating. He watches the image of Tegan and Nyssa carrying his cabinet.

“It’s a very long way for three young people to carry me.” He remarks.

The Portreeve fixes him with a penetrating gaze. “Three, Doctor?”

Three. That is a number, an important number, but he can’t remember where it falls in the order. “Yes. Tegan, Nyssa and…Tegan.” No. Wait. “Nyssa, Tegan…and Nyssa.” The Portreeve watches him carefully as he tries to count the numbers, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Nyssa, Tegan…you know, I’m sure there’s someone missing.”

-

“One, two…” He pauses. (One sees two unfamiliar people rise: the companions of a young boy who is his future. Only two.) He begins again. “One, two…” He sighs. “No, no, no.” Begins again. “One. Two.”

“Three, sir.” A little girl tells him.

He looks at her, startled. “What?”

“Three, sir,” she repeats, “is what comes after two.”

Three. Three! “Do you know, that’s exactly what I thought.” (He takes the number three and proudly attaches it to the memories of dress sense, neutron flow, and Jo. I haven’t forgotten your number after all, he thinks fondly of Three. He is glad.)

“And then four and then five and then six and then seven –” 

“Stop, please!” (Seven? He has never counted as far as seven. Is there a Seven?) “We’ll have to give you a badge for mathematical excellence.” Then it hits him – hard. One, two, three companions: Nyssa, Tegan and Adric. “Adric!”

-

He bursts into the room. “Where is he?!” The girls ask him who. “Adric!” But he thinks there is someone else he has forgotten – another ‘he’ who he should be aware of as well. Not a companion, but another.

-

When they try to leave Castrovalva, they find that space has folded in upon itself. Something about the form of this recursive occlusion tugs at his memories. Someone used to build small space-time traps in a lab, long ago, that resemble this one. Who was he? He concentrates, trying to match the name to the memory. When he fails, he turns to the books. Words hold the answer to the problem of Castrovalva.

No, he realises. (Words hold the answer to HIS problem, but that can wait.) The BOOKS themselves hold the answer to Castrovalva. (Someone is playing a game with him. A game he recognises. The game is helping him to find his feet.) “The books are five hundred years old at least.” The books are old…but they cover the history of Castrovalva up to the present day.

Time! He realises. Time! It is a Time Experiment! And the name that goes with the memory rings loudly in his mind.

The moment he has recalled the name, the game changes smoothly. (As if this new game is the one that was being played all along.) The Portreeve reveals himself with a dramatic flourish. “The final meeting of The Doctor with his Master.” The Master is using Adric to sustain the fiction of Castrovalva – and with his companions in danger he is forced to pull himself together, forced to rise above the vulnerability his regeneration has swathed him within. He is forced to be The Doctor, even if he still has not found his number.

“All right, Master, it’s me you want. Let the boy go.” He finds his reserves of righteous fury, his protective instincts, and his flair for heroics in the face of adversity – traits he has possessed no matter what his number. “Unless you let every one of them go now…” But before he has even finished his demand, The Master’s plans are unravelling. The barriers around Adric are destroyed and he leaps for his companion, pulling him free of the web. 

They all move to flee from Castrovalva. The Castrovalvans who have yet to fade back into the nothingness they were created from turn upon The Master. He wrestles with Mergrave and The Master, shouting that they have to leave, before Castrovalva closes up upon itself. Adric pulls him back out of Castrovalva and he loses his grip on the other men. The occlusion contracts and seals itself off.

“It’s gone.” Nyssa murmurs.

“And The Master?” Adric prompts.

He pauses. (The Master is a genius, and has always possessed a flair for these sorts of time experiments. It is unlikely that he would have constructed such an environment without leaving himself a back door, just in case. Besides, the man still has his TARDIS. It is likely they will see him again.) “Let’s hope so.”

They jog back towards the TARDIS and he chants to himself, turning his mind back to the numbers. “One, two, one, two, one, two.” The numbers come easily to him now. His regeneration seems to have settled itself. He affixes a piece of celery to his lapel with satisfaction. And three – his outfit is now complete.

“I feel quite like my old self.” He feels like The Doctor at last. “It’s absolutely splendid.”

They make their way into the TARDIS, carefully sliding down into the slanted console room. He fiddles with the controls, preparing to take off.

“Are you sure you’re all right now, Doctor?” Nyssa asks.

“Oh, yes.” He replies, and smiles graciously at her. “Perfectly all right, thank you. I managed to stabilise the regeneration in time. But I couldn’t have done it without all of you.” His companions all beam at him. “Each and every one of you was of great help.” He counts.

The TARDIS, one; Nyssa, two; Tegan, three; Adric, four…and even The Master, five.

Five.

THAT is the number he has needed: Five.

“Five!” He declares triumphantly, and the TARDIS engines start up enthusiastically; a loud fanfare of excitement and delight. She concurs.

-

It’s quiet in the TARDIS when she comes to find him. Tegan and Adric are both asleep in their rooms and he has been tinkering half-heartedly with some of the outdated TARDIS systems, waiting for her. He has known that this conversation would have to occur since Logopolis. 

She hovers in the doorway. “Doctor?”

“Come in, Nyssa.”

She sits gingerly in the comfortable armchair tucked in the corner of the room, clearly out of place amongst the sharp scientific equipment that fills the spaces around it. He keeps his eyes on the wires in his fingers and waits for her to speak.

“My…my father.”

Something uncomfortable twists in his chest. He lowers the wires and shifts his weight as he looks across at her. “Tremas was a good man.” He says gently.

She nods. “Yes.” Her smile is small and it trembles. “He was so very clever. No matter how important his work was, he would always have time for me. And he always knew how to make me smile.”

He closes his eyes. “And laugh.” His voice is soft, lost in memory. “Hearing each other laugh used to matter too.”

“…Doctor?”

He pulls himself from the past and opens his eyes again. “It’s important to keep hold of all of those good memories, Nyssa. No matter how much evil there was in the end. Never forget the good memories.”

“Never.” She agrees. She pauses and drops her gaze to her lap, tracing her fingers over her knees. “Doctor…” Her voice hitches. “Is there anything left of my father? Can you save him?”

(He knows better than to tell her how similar Tremas was to The Master in his youth. He knows better than to say that the man that Tremas had been may have been influenced by The Master’s will since before she was born. He knows better than to speculate that perhaps Tremas had always been merely a facet of The Master, shaped and moulded until The Master had been capable of utilising the regeneration energy he had been storing and initiate the physical transference. Whether or not Tremas had really existed as an individual is beside the point. He had existed to Nyssa – and that is all that matters to her.)

“Tremas is dead, Nyssa.” His response is not the whole truth, but it is still honest. “The Master may look like your father, but he is entirely The Master. I’m sorry.”

She is quiet for a while. He waits. Tears begin to slide down her cheeks. “I know.” She whispers. “I had to ask, but I already knew.” She starts to tremble. “My father…my step-mother…my whole world…”

“I’m so sorry, Nyssa.”

He rises slowly and crosses the room until he is beside her. He crouches down and gently takes her hands in his. He keeps hold of them until she cries herself out, mourning all that she has lost. He does his best not to think about all that he has lost as well while he comforts her.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone finds it dubious that I have implied The Master appears to be assisting The Doctor in recovering from his regeneration, I present you with the evidence that The Master would never kill The Doctor outright without thoroughly defeating him first. Thus, he needs The Doctor working at full mental capacity before destroying him. (Plus: “A cosmos without The Doctor scarcely bears thinking about” vs “How gratifying to [kill The Doctor] three times over!” – The Five Doctors. Let’s be honest. They have a complex relationship.)
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The Three Doctors; Genesis of The Daleks; The Invisible Enemy; Shada; The Keeper of Traken; Logopolis; Castrovalva; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	16. Time Crash: The Aftermath (Five)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify: this explores what happens to Five as a result of Time Crash and how what he manages to remember affects him. You won’t get Five’s in depth perspective of the events of Time Crash until I move into the After-War phase of this series.

-16-

-

The TARDIS – and there is no other way to put it – freaks out completely when an almost-forgotten alarm sounds.

He is alone in the console room when it happens. He is launched halfway across the room as the TARDIS pitches dangerously, screeching in a way he hasn’t heard in a long time (since The Time Lords, his trial, his forced regeneration and whatever they had done to ground her to one time/place) and it terrifies him. Something is seriously wrong. Very, very wrong indeed. He can FEEL it in every molecule of space around him and whatever it is it’s disturbing.

His concern for his TARDIS overrides his focus on anything else for a few moments, and so he almost doesn’t notice when he bumps briefly into the skinny man beside him as they both flit around the console. It is only when they magnanimously move out each other’s way that they both freeze and stare at one another.

This man – !

[And suddenly there was white NOISE in every corner of his mind; twisting ribbons of temporal energy enfold around him uncomfortably; a sense of all-encompassing disaster strikes him so fiercely that he can’t breathe; something is very WRONG and whatever it is, it is even worse than the sensation of all four of his past selves being caught in the temporal distortion put together – what could possibly be worse than that?!; death and destruction and regret and grief.]

And then he has a moment of clarity.

“You remembered.”

“Because you will remember.”

[He tries to reach out and connect with his other self, but the sense of horrifying WRONGNESS still remains; there is a distance between them that is unlike anything he has felt in the past and he wonders what number belongs to his other self; they are separated by space and time, but it is more than that; there is an Event between them that does-not-yet-exist, a fixed temporal occurrence that BURNS with such violence that it sears the fabric of his thoughts; but whatever it is, it is irrelevant, because his other self is here and that is enough.]

“To days to come.”

“All my love to long ago.”

[They both try to hold themselves in this moment, leaning on each other’s presence like it’s a balm; but despite their efforts the sensation remains: he is burning, this other self is burning, and somewhere in between them, somewhere in Time, another self is BURNING.]

He feels their sections of time disentangle and watches as the young, but much older, man fades away back into their future. Time pulls at him as they separate and he feels a temporal heaviness press against his thoughts. Before he surrenders to the pressure, he manages to add one last parting remark.

“Oh, Doctor. Remember to put your shields up.”

And then everything goes black.

-

His companions are alarmed when they discover him unconscious in the console room. He waves off their concern as he gets back to his feet with an explanation that he must have overworked himself. When Tegan asks, in her usual exasperated tone, what on earth he had been doing to make him collapse like that, he frowns. He cannot remember.

Nyssa peers at one of the console displays and hesitantly recites the readings there. She doesn’t understand them.

But he does. He concludes immediately that he has just encountered another self – probably a future self, given his lack of memory – and tells them not to worry: he is familiar with the readings (though he does not explain them) and the matter will resolve itself in time.

“What about this residual echo?” Adric asks, jabbing at the display. “Is it dangerous?”

(The echo is HIM, his memories.) “No.” (There are echoes of memory that will filter across him as they travel back in time. His memories – whatever of them that he is to retain – haven’t caught up with his body yet. But they will soon.) “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Adric’s eyes are hungry for answers. “What is it exactly?”

He can’t help the way his panic sharpens his tone. “It’s nothing!” His companions all startle. “Nothing you need to concern yourself about. It’s a Time Lord matter.”

“But –”

“That’s enough, Adric!” (He shudders for his past selves; he shivers for his future selves.) “It doesn’t concern you!”

Adric’s eyes flash with a sliver of defiance and a lot of hurt and he storms out of the room. Tegan and Nyssa hover uncomfortably, but they don’t push the issue. He throws himself into repairs until he can’t think of anything beyond the work, and doesn’t even notice when the girls leave him alone again. He counts silently to himself as he breathes. (One, Two, Three, Four, Five.)

-

It doesn’t take long for him to feel ashamed of his behaviour and go in search of Adric. It isn’t his companions’ fault that his timeline is appallingly complicated and he should know better than to take out his (helpless) frustration on them. He breezes into Adric’s room as though he had forgotten about their earlier disagreement and hands over a book as a peace offering.

But Adric is not very impressed. He hardly looks at the book and he radiates boredom and indifference.

He tries the direct approach instead. “What’s the matter?”

“I’m tired of being considered a joke.” Adric rebuffs his denial of this with an immediate response. “Then why am I constantly teased?”

“Everyone’s teased from time to time.” (There is nothing wrong with good-natured teasing between friends. At least Adric is not being bullied the way he was in his youth.)

“How am I to learn if you never find time to explain?”

“Time? We have spent many hours discussing and debating endless topics.” (There are some things that he CANNOT explain. The First Rule is one of those things. Linear beings do not have the perception to understand the nuances of the most fundamental Time Lord Rules.) But his companions are all important to him, and he empathises with Adric’s point of view. He knows how it feels to think you are being ignored, being left out. “I’ll make more time.” He is sincere. “I give you my word.”

“Just as you gave your word to Tegan.”

(A tomb in which his other selves are waiting and Tegan is there with them. But it has not happened for him yet.)

“That’s not fair.” (You don’t understand, and you CAN’T understand.) He doesn’t want to listen to this anymore. (He must not think about the Rules, about time and his other selves – it is dangerous to linger on the memories where his time streams intersect.)

“I’m tired of being an outsider, Doctor. I want to go back to my own people.”

(He will forever be an outsider, and he can never go back.) 

And then he realises what Adric is saying and a new argument begins. Adric refuses to understand why the TARDIS is unable to cross back into E-Space, even if Adric’s calculations are perfect. (And there is always the danger that if the calculations ARE perfect, they can be replicated…by the High Council. And then Romana will never be safe from them. He will never be able to protect himself – any of his selves – from the Council, but if he can protect Romana, then he will.)

He is frustrated with his body and his face (not for the first time) – there are times when his young appearance is disadvantageous. Like now, for instance, when he wants people to remember that he is a TIME LORD who has lived for CENTURIES and that when he says something CANNOT be done, then it CANNOT BE DONE!

“Since his regeneration, he’s become decidedly immature.” Adric tells Tegan snidely.

…………………… 

Well! If he is so immature, then there is no problem with him storming off to not-sulk, is there?

(Unfortunately, he is not Three anymore, working at UNIT where he was always viewed with such scepticism and derision that he was allowed to storm off and not-sulk in peace. He is Five, and both Tegan and Nyssa follow him. He is undecided as to whether this is an improvement or not.)

The girls cajole him into conversation – if he has one consistent weakness, it is for knowledge being imparted on one who can appreciate it (even if that is more often than not only himself) – and he tells them of the dinosaurs as they inspect some fossils. He tells them how they had lived for hundreds of years, how successful they were as a species, and how quickly they died out, from something as simple, yet devastating, as an object falling from space.

(He thinks about what he has just said about the dinosaurs, and how applicable the first two criteria are in describing the Time Lords too. He wonders then if such a disaster could ever occur and bring ruin to them, just like the dinosaurs. Then he shivers, wondering where such a thought had come from. He shakes it off.) [And then forgets the thought entirely as time currents swallow it.]

-

He recovers from his not-sulk the moment there are lives in danger. “Brave heart, Tegan,” he says, and he means it. (But the impression is not his alone. There is an echo of One in his mind, and he knows that his other selves are going to follow. Interacting with the future always dregs up the past.)

There is a bomb, and he and Adric work together to defuse it, their earlier arguments forgotten. “Drastic action is called for.” The arming signal is strong and begins to override his attempts at rewiring. (Two and Three are bickering in his mind over the right approach.) “Abandon methodical procedure for blind instinct.” He is successful. (Two is smug and Three is irritated, because Two had been right, but both are pleased with the outcome nonetheless.) He turns his attention to the hunt for those responsible for the bomb.

Once the TARDIS is in flight and the others begin to dwindle into the corridor, he calls for Adric to stay. He fumbles his way through expressions of appreciation for the earlier help (Four was never very gracious, but he is able to do a little better) trying to break the ice, as the humans say, before getting to the crux of the matter.

“I’ve been thinking about your wish to return home.” If he is careful, he might be able to hide it from the Council…if it was really what Adric wanted. “I thought that if we could work out a satisfactory course, I might give it a try.”

As Adric shows him the calculations he has mapped out, a bout of extreme temporal nausea washes over him. (There is a young man, who is not as young as he appears. “Where are you now?” He asks. “Nyssa and Tegan?”) He frowns as the memory settles, trying to concentrate. (‘Nyssa and Tegan?’ ONLY Nyssa and Tegan?)

“I’m sorry about our argument earlier.” He looks at Adric, but is only mildly concerned. “Do you really want to go home?” (Only ‘Nyssa and Tegan’ because Adric went home: there is logic in that.)

But then Adric says, “no, of course not,” and smiles.

(Mild concern turns into bewildered panic. ‘Nyssa and Tegan.’ But if Adric does not go home…then where is Adric?)

-

The moment he sees them, he feels nauseous again. (“Cybermen and Mara?” He asks.) Cybermen! (But if this memory is right – and it must be, because there were Mara and now there are Cybermen – then his other memory is correct too. “Nyssa and Tegan?” But what about Adric?) Foreboding strangles him, but he forces his misgivings aside to concentrate on the task at hand. The Cybermen must be stopped.

“Our records indicate that you have a fondness for Earth.”

He will not let them destroy Earth; the planet, the people, everything he holds dear. He will prove to these Cybermen – and warn the rest of the Cyber Fleet – that emotions do in fact have their uses.

“You have affection for this woman?” The Cyber Leader drags Tegan before him. “And you do not consider friendship a weakness?”

“I do not.”

“Kill her.” 

A Cyberman advances towards Tegan. No! (Tegan stands in the TARDIS beside a man in a well-worn suit, both of them hovering over the man he has become. She will be there.) Tegan will be fine, they are testing him to gauge his reactions – find his weaknesses – and they will not kill her. (“Nyssa and Tegan?” His future self had mentioned Tegan; if she had been killed, surely he wouldn’t have mentioned her at all.) Tegan will not die here, they cannot kill her here, he KNOWS this; with the temporal shift of his memories he can almost SEE her time stream, and if it was to be severed now he would know, the moment he considered the possibility. She is safe.

But he cannot help himself. “No!” He leaps between Tegan and the Cyberman. (After all, sometimes not even HE can trust his own time-sense, let alone his memories.)

“I now have control over you, Doctor.” For someone who has no emotions, the Cyber Leader has mastered smug satisfaction quite well. “All I need do is threaten the woman’s death for you to obey me.”

And he knows he has no choice.

-

The Cyber Leader commands him to lead the way to the TARDIS, with Tegan as a hostage, while Adric remains behind.

“I’m not going without him.”

The Cyber Leader’s response is merely to threaten Tegan’s life again, and his hands are tied. Adric takes the decision away from him, declaring he will find his own way back. “Just leave!”

He approaches his young friend, ignoring the strange tightness in his chest. (It feels like Two, it makes him think of Jamie and Zoe, and that makes him anxious.) “Good luck, Adric.”

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

He doesn’t look back as he leaves.

-

Helplessness is not an emotion that anyone deals particularly well with.

“Gently, Tegan.” He warns. The Cybermen will not hesitate to kill her now if she provokes them, not when they now have Nyssa as an additional hostage.

“Gently?! This is my planet that they’re about to destroy!”

(Does she think he is unaware of that? Earth is his planet too! Just because he was not born there does not mean that it is not his home!)

The freighter jumps a time track. Time congeals around it as it plunges towards Earth through the vortex, drifting backwards in time. The freighter is now time-locked, and he could not board it with his TARDIS even if his life, or the life of his companions, depended on it. It is physically and temporally impossible. Not even the TARDIS could do it.

Just as he is about to give into despair, he sees the date reading on the console. They have travelled back sixty-five million years. The freighter is going to collide with Earth, yes, but Earth will survive, and the fossils of the dinosaurs that are about to perish will live on in history. “The Earth is safe.”

The radio crackles into life. “We’ve managed to escape the freighter. But Adric’s still on board.”

(“Nyssa and Tegan?”) The mathematical badge for excellence suddenly feels very heavy in his hands. (His other self had not mentioned Adric, he had deliberately omitted Adric. Why?)

He uses Adric’s gold tipped badge to defeat the Cyber Leader. Then his hands are flying across the console of the TARDIS, trying despairingly to make her land on the freighter, but she does not budge. (And…the old girl…she’s SILENT. She knows.) No, no, please. (He could not save Katarina.) Adric! (The loss of Jamie and Zoe is inevitable – “yes, yes, it’s sad” – but there is nothing he can do to prevent it.) Adric is going to die! (And the moment the thought takes hold in his mind, the temporal fluctuations around him erase any doubt: Adric’s timeline is ticking towards its end, and both he and the TARDIS can feel it. He CANNOT save Adric.) No!

The freighter explodes, condemning the dinosaurs to extinction…and taking Adric’s life in the process.

-

Tegan is hurting, and she lashes out in her pain. “You could do more than grieve. You could go back.”

“No.”

Nyssa is hurting too. “Surely the TARDIS is quite capable…”

“We can change what happened!” Tegan implores. “If we materialise before Adric was killed.”

“And change your own history?” (His future self knew, and that moment in his future also exists in his past. He cannot change his own history.) He is hurting, just as they are, and he cannot help but raise his voice. They are linear beings and they can’t understand. “Now listen to me, both of you. There are some rules that cannot be broken even with the TARDIS.” (The First Rule may not be one he is able to follow, but the consequences of this are intertwined around every other Rule he is bound by. There are things that he is unable to change, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.) “Don’t EVER ask me to do anything like that again. You must accept that Adric is dead.” But they are all grieving, so he gentles his manner and offers them comfort. “His life wasn’t wasted. He died trying to save others.” And such a death is never meaningless. (He should know: he’s done it four times now.) “Adric had a choice.”

“We used to fight a lot.” Tegan says in a small voice. “I’ll miss him.” They will all miss him.

He knows that Tegan is going to struggle with accepting her grief for a while. It is easier to hide grief beneath anger, especially when memories of the arguments and hurt that was caused cast shadows over all the other memories. Grief is often supplanted by guilt. 

He understands that.

-

“No, Doctor, you never do understand.”

(“Where are you now?” He asks. “The Master?” His future self doesn’t quite meet his eyes. “He’s just turned up again, same as ever.”)

“So you escaped from Castrovalva. I should have guessed.”

“As gullible as ever, my dear Doctor.” The Master is swift to have a weapon in his hand. (Sometimes he wonders whether The Master feels bereft without one.) “How you love the company of fools.” Things between the two of them are just the same as they ever were, despite both their relatively new bodies. 

Except, this time, he is losing spectacularly. The Master is playing a hard and fast game, and the man is quick to achieve his goal of absorbing the Xeraphin power into his TARDIS. (He is consumed by doubt in the wake of his failure, given the legacy of his predecessors. Three and Four had never botched things like this so quickly when they were up against The Master. He feels so small and insubstantial in comparison to them.)

But then The Master discovers the sabotage that the ‘small-minded apes’ had wrought upon his plans, and there is hope yet. (And who is the greater fool, he thinks as he smiles: the fool, the fool who follows, or one who is fooled by the fool?) Their game is not over.

“Well, that’s the way it goes if you will steal other people’s property.” He says mildly, as though he had never been in any doubt at all.

The Master’s thinly veiled aggravation is heart-warming. “What are your terms?” The Master listens tersely as he concisely outlines everything that he demands is to be relinquished and offers the temporal limiter in return. Despite the fact that The Master has no choice, he is still relieved when the man accepts his offer with all the customary loathing that he displays when being forced to admit an error.

They exchange TARDIS components, sizing each other up, and themselves as well. The last time they had seen each other (in Castrovalva), he had been struggling through the aftermath of regeneration, and the time before that (during the mess on Logopolis) The Master had been the one dealing with the instability of a new body. Muddling along through the unpredictable throes of change, neither of them had yet grown into the man that they were now.

But now here they both stand: The Master and The Doctor. They have the measure of each other now; he knows that he must be cautious of his insecurity lest The Master will exploit it, and The Master must be wary of his own arrogance so that he does not overlook the commonplace, which could lead to making a costly mistake. Here is where the game between them truly begins. (Once again.)

“The quantum accelerator.”

“The temporal limiter.”

The Master reaches out to snatch it, and he pulls it back. He holds his hand out instead. The Master relents, conceding that of the two of them he is the more likely to keep his word than The Master is. They exchange the parts. 

“Thank you.” He chuckles. “Should I say au revoir, Doctor?” The Master steps into his TARDIS and it dematerialises effortlessly. However, by now, the man really should know better than to take equipment from HIS time machine. His temporal limiter has always been a tad faulty anyway.

The Master attempts to materialise, but he and his TARDIS had reached the pre-programmed co-ordinates first. The Master’s TARDIS is knocked straight back into the vortex, spiralling towards the planet Xeriphas. And a rather worn out temporal limiter will expectedly take out quite a few systems when its circuits fry under the pressure of the trip. The Master will be stuck there…for a while at least.

“Let’s hope it’s for good.” He tells Nyssa, to reassure her. (“He’s just shown up again, same as ever.”) But personally, he rather doubts that.

Tegan has wandered off. He hovers his hand over the controls a moment, considering. (She stands in the tomb…but so does Susan. And Susan did not arrive in the Death Zone with him, she was brought separately.) Tegan has been asking him to return her to Heathrow, to her linear life, for so long…and he cannot guarantee that he will be able to find their way back here again for her. (Adric said he wanted to go home and now he never can.) And Tegan is back where she belongs: she is home.

He nods decisively and the TARDIS takes flight.

(It is with a strange melancholy that he thinks of his old home, and how he will forever be denied the opportunity to return to Gallifrey himself.)

-

An extra-dimensional force invades the TARDIS and assaults him. He trembles beneath the vicious attack, but as he hovers on the brink of dissolution, he is buffeted away from the external force by a simple memory. (A man pulls out a coin and the other man calls. “Hard luck.”) He pictures a coin turning slowly through the air. (He holds out his hand to catch it. It spins slowly, one, two, and three. There are three of them.) He resists the attempted bonding by turning his mind over and over again, just like the coin, until his body falls free of the force. He collapses under the strain, but his mind and body are still his own.

His assailant had been constructed of antimatter, attempting to bond with him in an effort to reverse its polarity. (Matter and antimatter in collision will result in a supernova.) He watches the central console undulate as Nyssa reads him the information regarding the Arc of Infinity. The motion of the TARDIS is soothing. (Something about an antimatter creature makes him feel uneasy, but he cannot identify what.) Nyssa tells him that the creature could have only attacked him with access to his biological information.

“Which, in my case, exists only in the Matrix on Gallifrey.”

(His thoughts about Gallifrey turn suddenly bitter, leaving a strong acidic burn – BURNING, BURNING – in their wake.) Then the recall signal sounds out, a soft cooing that sends waves of displeasure rolling through him. “High Council of Time Lords. We’re being taken back to Gallifrey.”

-

They arrive in the security compound. He is not surprised. Of course the High Council would rather kill him than take responsibility for this problem; it is a far easier option than tracking down an antimatter force and combatting it themselves. Particularly given their appalling efforts last time this sort of thing happened. (And the measures they were forced to take. But at least he knows they will not risk that course of action again.)

He and Nyssa hurry down a few corridors before he comes face to face with a guard. 

(His face seems strangely familiar.) “Hello, I’m The Doctor.” 

He is promptly shot. Not the most welcoming return, but he had been expecting as much. At least it had only been a stun beam. Commander Maxil and the guards escort him to the council chamber.

(“Where are you now?” His future self asks. “Time Lords in funny hats?”) He shakes his head to clear his thoughts. (He must not allow himself to let the impressions of his other selves linger while he is in the presence of the Council. If they discover that he is still breaking that First Rule, outside of their influence, it will give them another motive to execute him. They will not risk exposure of the truth.) 

The first thing the Council do is point out how unco-operative he has always been in the past. They are quick to mention Romana’s failure to return to Gallifrey. (He knows what rumours would have been spread about her. Time Lords who associate with renegades are often deemed guilty of becoming renegades themselves.)

“Romana chose to stay in E-Space.” He switches immediately to offence. “Has anyone checked to see if my biodata extracts have been removed from the Matrix, Castellan?”

“What are you suggesting, Doctor?”

(That the High Council is consistently riddled with corruption? The Council members are all pathological liars? The High Council would not hesitate to break even the most important of Rules if it suited their purpose? All of the above.)

The Lord President emerges. Borusa’s words of state are normal procedure, but for some reason they set him on edge. He does not trust these Council members, no matter that he knows all of them by reputation if not personally – he has never been able to trust the Council body in the past. He asks for time to investigate the matter.

“I’m sorry, Doctor,” Borusa says. “The time factor involved leaves only one course of action open to us.” They use the words ‘capital punishment’ – but no matter how detached and clinical the phrase is, it still means ‘murder.’

He bristles with indignation as he steps forward. “I have a great deal to say!” (“You have no right to do this, no right!” One shouts at them, when things began for him.) The guards seize him and begin to haul him away. “Executing me will not alter that fact that there’s a traitor at work on Gallifrey!” 

(There is ALWAYS a traitor in the High Council.)

-

As they approach the TARDIS, his old colleague Damon intercepts them. The guards are quick to pull him back and refuse to allow them to converse, but not in time to prevent Damon from slipping the copy of his bioscan extract from the Matrix into his palm.

He always knew he had liked Damon.

Damon and Nyssa arrange to see him. He knows that The Castellan will be attempting to monitor the conversation, so he begins as innocuously as he can while steering them out of range of the audio recorder. (He ignores the pain of his query.) “Well, Damon, what news of my old companion Leela?”

Damon only hesitates a moment. “She’s well and very happy.” Damon does not allude to her age and he does not ask. How much linear time has passed on Gallifrey since she had remained? (Has the temporal grace on Gallifrey affected her time stream? Has she aged faster than normal, slower than normal? Or has she simply aged at her natural rate? His hearts are heavy, as they always are when considering the short lifespan of his companions. Is she still young and fierce, or is she now worn and distinguished? But whichever it is, at least she is still alive here and now.)

They do not have long alone before Commander Maxil arrives to remove Damon and Nyssa. He only hopes that they make use of the information he has given them as he is escorted to the place of termination.

Borusa speaks for the Council. “Our duty, if not our conscience, is clear.” (Typical.) The whole Council, with the exception of Councillor Hedin, were in unanimous agreement. “By the authority vested in me, as laid down by Rassilon,” and then he doesn’t hear anything else that Borusa says, because those words ring in his mind: Borusa’s authority, and Rassilon. For some reason, this prompts another thought: there is a conspiracy here, he is certain of it. (He cannot recall why these two ideas seem linked to one another, but he has not the time now to think on it.)

Nyssa bursts in with a gun. “No, Nyssa! I will not have blood spilled to save my life.” (They will be swift to execute her under the Old Laws if she harms a member of the Council. And under that law, the inclusion of the term ‘of any affiliation’ would result in Leela’s life being forfeited too. He will not allow harm to come to either of them.) “I know what I’m doing.” He requests that they spare Nyssa’s life and knows they cannot refuse him, considering it shall be listed as his dying wish on the official record. He takes his place and awaits judgement.

The order is given.

-

He finds himself suspended in the Matrix and knows he was right about a conspiracy. If his death had been the object, the one responsible would not have bothered with the ceremony of a termination. 

Laughter rings out around him, revelling in his helplessness. (He should know this presence, but he cannot focus enough to recognize it.) When the presence leaves, all he is left to think about is the pain. He feels weak and the expanse of the Matrix makes him feel very alone.

So he begins to count to himself. One, two, three, four, five. Six. Seven? Eight? He pauses, confused. For a moment, he does not know what comes after eight. (“Where are you?” Another self is BURNING.) Then the moment passes. Nine? Ten? (“Where are you?”) Eleven? Counting so far ahead makes his head hurt. It is safer to stick to the numbers he knows, especially in the Matrix. One, two, three, four, five. (Six.) One, two, three, four, five. The counting helps him offset the pain.

When the presence returns, it has found another way to torment him. “Tegan!” (She is supposed to be home, where she is safe!) She cries out as she is exposed to the intensity of the Matrix’s power. Fortunately, his assailant does not have the time to continue toying with him, removing Tegan from the Matrix and keeping her as a hostage, then releasing him, convinced he is no threat if he fears for her safety. But abducting Tegan to use against him was a mistake. He will NOT lose another companion. 

He will NOT.

-

His security access has been long cancelled, but the presidential code overwrites practically everything. He just needs to remember it. It’s unlikely to have changed since he learnt it (courtesy of Time Lord bureaucracy) and he is very good with numbers. 

“Four-five…four? Four-five…Five!” (Both he and his predecessor are embroiled in the politics of Gallifrey.) “Three-nine-one…Three-nine-one?” (Three was exiled. Nine…Nine? One had fled.) “Three-nine-one. Six-five-nine-two!” (Six follows after him, so why does he feel as though he has seen him recently? At the very least, he has seen his likeness. Five! Nine…? “Where are you?” Had that future self been the Ninth? He does not think so; the number does not suit that face…and why does he get the impression that ‘Nine’ and the ‘Ninth’ are irreconcilable? Two was recalled to Gallifrey for trial and execution, just as he is now; Two lost both Jamie and Zoe, but he will NOT lose Nyssa and Tegan! “Nyssa and Tegan?”) The code opens the door.

Damon tells him that the presidential codes were also used to send his biodata. “The Lord President.” President Borusa? Could Borusa be involved in such a betrayal? (“YOU brought us here?”) No, it can’t be. He must see Borusa immediately.

He bursts into the antechamber, astonished to see Hedin there – Hedin would be the last person to suspect the Lord President, having always held the position in such high reverence. But then Hedin turns and is holding a gun. “So it’s you.” (He has been betrayed AGAIN.) “I always considered you a friend, Hedin.” Why would Hedin do this? What could possibly be worth the man’s career, worth HIS life, worth putting Gallifrey at risk, the whole UNIVERSE at risk?!

“The first and greatest of our people; the one who sacrificed all to give us mastery of time, and was shamefully abandoned in return.”

No…“Omega.” His horror runs deep. (It took THREE of him to defeat Omega in the past! What chance does he have alone?) Omega’s will had long ago turned destructive, driven mad by the delusions of regaining a normal existence. “Omega is insane!”

The Castellan arrives with a weapon of his own. “You’re under arrest, Lord President.” 

But then Hedin is exposed as the traitor, Omega’s presence is revealed and Hedin loses his life as a result of his fanaticism.

-

He races to find Tegan before Omega begins transference. When the time approaches, Omega’s efforts are hampered by Time itself. The Arc begins to shift just as Omega tries to draw upon its power. The Arc energy catches them both with backlash as there is an explosion – Omega’s form copies his own while trying to convert his body from antimatter to matter. 

Fortunately, he does not seem to have suffered any ill effects from the Arc, as his own body is unchanged.

[But the energy from the Arc travels up his time stream, searching for his next regeneration.]

He finds the matter convertor, and calls for Tegan on instinct as he hurries after Omega. Tegan follows. They eventually corner Omega, who is deteriorating rapidly.

“Power and the greatest of Omega could have been yours. But, no, your hatred of me…”

“We didn’t hate you, Omega.” (None of him had. Not One, Two, or Three, and not him either. But Omega will not accept pity from him if he offers it.) And Omega cannot comprehend that he is not interested in power, of any sort.

“All must die.” Omega is prepared to let the universe be annihilated, just because he cannot live in it. The dying Time Lord watches as he pulls out the convertor. “You’ll never have the courage to use it, Doctor.” Omega begins to will his own destruction. “All must perish!”

(“You felt sorry for him, didn’t you?” Jo had asked. “It was either him or everything.” Omega has tried to cross the dimensions, longing for freedom still, even now. But Omega simply cannot exist in this universe.) He raises the convertor. (“The only freedom he could ever have,” Three had told Jo sadly. If Omega has chosen never to return willingly to the antimatter universe, there is only one other way he can have his freedom.)

It is compassion and understanding that compels him to fire.

-

Tegan grins at him. “So you’re stuck with me, aren’t you?”

“So it seems.” He smiles back at her. (“At my age,” he had told her, on their way to a tomb, “there’s little left to fear.”) His smile fades slightly as she turns back to Nyssa. (There is still much he is afraid of, given his past…and his future.)

-

The TARDIS croons softly as he surveys the readings once again, alone in the console room. The readings have now stabilised; the residual echo left by the earlier temporal collision has dissipated entirely. He takes a moment to assess whether his memories have settled properly, without causing any (more) damage (than he is already used to) – he presses through the pain for the sake of his other self. He knows how it feels to inherit memories and he will do whatever he can to make sure that his future self is not left with any of the agony that he has so often endured.

(“Because you will remember.”) His recollections of his future self begin to fade within his mind. (“Where are you now? Nyssa and Tegan? Cybermen and Mara? Time Lords in funny hats? The Master?”) He allows the memories to erode without resisting, and hopes his efforts were enough. 

“To days to come.” (“All my love to long ago.”) This has been all that there was for him to remember about the experience, he knows. Until the future.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Until ‘Time Crash!’
> 
> Commander Maxil was played by Colin Baker…*smiles innocently*
> 
> Once again, a big thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments! 
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The Three Doctors; The Keeper of Traken; Logopolis; Castrovalva; Earthshock; Time Flight; Arc of Infinity; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Two Doctors; the minisode Time Crash; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	17. Echoes of a Future Past (Five)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As with most of this story, this chapter contains insinuations of the hopelessness that is brought on by a continual and meaningless existence.
> 
> However, this chapter also contains canon suicide attempt/s. I have interpreted the motivations behind them according to my head-cannon. There is implied self-mutilation, self-assigned blame, and morbid conjecture about death, without any real closure. Please proceed with caution.

-17-

-

The Black Guardian craves revenge. Unable to involve himself directly he searches for pawns that intersect with the near future of the one he hates; the one who was untouched. He finds two puny linear beings that bear a strange mark of time upon them. This will suit his purpose: if they are already causing temporal waves in the man’s time stream, then his own meddling will be deniable.

The first is a girl born native to the planet Earth, but she is not an option. Where her path meets the Time Lord’s the risk is too high; not only is there a second Time Lord present, but there is another figure, insubstantial and born of the vortex itself. His interference would be discovered and he cannot allow that.

The other is a boy also on Earth, but he is not of that planet. He comes from another and has been exiled and stranded there as punishment. The boy hates and curses his fate (just as much as he secretly hates and blames himself for it) and he is rife with hurt and anger and disquiet. (The Black Guardian finds the irony of this delicious.) And where he crosses into the Time Lord’s presence, there is pain and grief and fear, culminating in a convergence under the shadow of death.

The Black Guardian laughs darkly and reaches for his pawn. He shall impose his will upon the boy until he is consumed by a single purpose. He will make this boy KILL The Doctor! And he will have his REVENGE!

-

Tegan’s latest suffering at the hands of the Mara has left her with a longing for familiar things. (He understands this feeling all too well.) So he aims the TARDIS for Earth. They are almost waylaid by crashing into another spaceship, and then the TARDIS engines shiver slightly, almost as if she’s…anxious.

(There are very few things that could distress her – and the suffering of those dear to her is always the worst. Usually this means him and, more often than not, it also means his other selves. But he does not feel like he normally does when he senses another nearby – he seems to be in full control of his facilities – so surely he can’t be in any danger of another meeting.)

He dashes around the console, dashes out to trace the fault, dashes back in. It takes him a moment to notice the young man now in the TARDIS. He looks up slowly. (He knows this boy; he recognises his face, the cut of his well-worn suit. They have met before, long ago.)

“Who are you?”

-

“Turlough.” Says the young man. (And just like that, he remembers.) He grins warmly at Turlough, who is naturally rather surprised by this response.

-

Turlough holds himself strangely, as though uncomfortable in his own skin. He does not stop to wonder about this – the behaviour seems to align with long harboured impressions – and he gets to work inspecting the transmat capsule relay.

The relay explodes, throwing him back into Turlough. The TARDIS begins to materialise, but then fades away. He frowns. (Now just where is she going?) “It should be here.” He pouts.

“But as it isn’t, where’s it gone?” Turlough asks, fiddling with his jacket and not turning to meet his gaze. Hmmm…a good question.

He turns around to ask Turlough something, and sees him talking to two new arrivals. One is a school boy, probably a classmate of Turlough’s. And the other – 

“Brigadier!” He beams ecstatically and thrusts out his hand. “Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart!”

The Brigadier looks at him blankly. “Well, who are you?”

The man must be undercover. He must be behaving deliberately obtuse for the sake of procedure, that’s all. The Brigadier could never actually forget him, not The Brigadier. That would be impossible. (…Wouldn’t it?) But when the look of recognition fails to appear like it should, doubt begins to compress around his lungs. (He has been gone for so long…)

“I’m sorry.” And The Brigadier’s words strike him with far more force than any bullet the man could fire. “If we have met before, it’s entirely slipped my memory.” He watches The Brigadier walk away.

(He tries not to let this hurt. After all, he has a new face, and when The Brigadier met Three, he hadn’t recognised HIM either and Three hadn’t really minded.) OH! Of course. How silly of him to forget: The Brigadier hasn’t seen him with THIS face before! (That’s all it was; confusion over a new face.)

He smiles fondly and follows after him. 

-

“Brigadier!” (The look of exasperation he receives makes him uneasy. It is not the one he is used to, the exclusive one The Brigadier uses just for him.) “I’ve regenerated.” But even after mentioning the TARDIS, the man still doesn’t respond. “What about our time together with UNIT?” 

This at least gets a reaction. After the routine speech about the Official Secrets Act – which none of him have ever bothered to sign, and probably never will – The Brigadier leads him to his quarters where they can talk.

(He breathes deeply and counts. Remain calm. Do not overreact. Everything is fine.)

“Brigadier, I need your help.” But when the man is unimpressed by this statement, he feels the ground beneath his feet give way. “You don’t remember me?”

“Certainly not.”

The Brigadier doesn’t recognise him; Lethbridge-Stewart doesn’t know him; Alistair doesn’t remember him.

But why? (Five, Four, Three, Two, One. Zero. Nothing, null. Valueless. He is valueless; memories of him are worthless; their relationship is defunct.) WHY? Lethbridge-Stewart had cared about their friendship once. What has happened to change this?! (“Three of them? I didn’t know when I was well off.”) He had always been difficult, always been a source of frustration and irritation for the man. (There are Five of him now, and perhaps that is too many of him for one man to tolerate.)

(He drowns in despair and grief. He has lost so much; his home, his family, his friends, his companions.) “I’ve lost my TARDIS and you’ve lost your memories.” (Now even the old girl and Lethbridge-Stewart are lost to him. He is alone.)

He probably deserves to be abandoned like this. (Four could not return to UNIT and had left them to fend for themselves. He had always thought The Brigadier had understood, but what if he had not?) An aching silence fills his chest. (The Brigadier had been there for Three, in the wake of the absence of music. But Mike had betrayed him, so what weight does his friendship truly hold?) If The Brigadier does not KNOW him, if their friendship is over, then he no longer has the right to use his title anymore. But if he cannot call him The Brigadier, then how will he address him? (When they had met, Two had been forced to constantly correct himself, wanting to use the appropriate title, even though the rapport between them was only just forming.)

“Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart.” 

Using the WRONG title makes him feel even worse.

But it seems to resonate with Lethbridge-Stewart. The man has gone still, his gaze unfocused. Remembering. (He holds his breath. It’s me, old friend, he thinks hopefully. It’s ME.) Then Lethbridge-Stewart turns to look at him, and his eyes blaze with recollection.

“So you’ve done it again, Doctor.”

(Alistair called him The Doctor. He could weep with relief. Alistair REMEMBERS him.)

An apology is swiftly offered, but he doesn’t need it. “It’s hardly your fault, Brigadier.” (Brigadier. The title amends the guilt that both of them feel; one for forgetting, and the other for doubting.)

(He can still call Alistair The Brigadier.)

“It’s good to see you.” (“Wonderful chaps, all of you.” Their friendship is still valued.) “The Doctor and the TARDIS. Well, how could I ever forget?”

How? He pauses. Yes, why didn’t he think of that? (He had been too busy fretting and brooding, that’s why, instead of paying attention.) Temporal memories can be rather sensitive, but there are few things that would cause a mental block this defined. “Some trauma, some shocking experience. Maybe some induced effect.” His friend has been in pain, and probably for a considerable length of linear time. (For some reason, the situation makes him feel a strong kinship with Two, standing over a map depicting war zones and the decision he made for the sake of getting help for the linear beings who had suffered as a result of manipulated temporal forces.)

When he accidently voices his worries aloud, the man gets angry and begins shouting – “Treatment? Treatment! There’s nothing wrong with me, Doctor” – before stopping at the pain of a migraine.

He leaps up in concern. (Three’s barriers are shattered and he tells anyone who asks that the pain is merely a headache.) He watches his friend with growing trepidation. Something is very wrong. 

He steers the conversation back to safer topics, giving the man time to recover his equilibrium, inquiring about the work at the school. The Brigadier goes along with his tactic, but he is not fooled by it. “I know how many beans make five, Doctor.” 

He smiles. (Five. One, Two, Three, Four and Five.) 

He lists his companions, taking great care not to name Turlough yet. (That would take some explaining.)

“Tegan?” The Brigadier muses. “Attractive girl, spirited, spoke with an Australian accent.”

The Brigadier has met Tegan in his recent past. (They will meet again in a tomb. “It’s Miss Jovanka, isn’t it?” The Brigadier had already known her then, so it was not the first time that they had met. That is still to come.) He had explicitly instructed the TARDIS to land beside the relay, and it appears she HAD. “The TARDIS came through in the right place, but the wrong time zone.” So, the question is WHEN is she?

(The TARDIS had been distressed and now she was missing.) There are now two Brigadier’s to consider, if the Tegan who is synchronous with HIM is now currently in the company of a Younger Brigadier. “You never did understand the interrelation of time.”

(But he understands all too well and the implications are ghastly.)

-

Someone was in the TARDIS with Nyssa, Tegan and The (Younger) Brigadier in the past. The girls thought that man had been him. “And what did you think?”

“No, Doctor. You mustn’t make me remember.” The Brigadier blanches, and for the first time he can remember, the man shies away from something. “I simply couldn’t recall it.”

There are two Brigadier’s from two separate time streams involved in this event simultaneously – this is the linear equivalent of breaking the First Rule. The (Younger) Brigadier had suffered a nervous (mental) breakdown; The (Older) Brigadier had always attributed it to overwork and has never questioned that diagnosis – both clearly the result of their time streams crossing. He cannot change these facts given that the events are already in motion. But as long as they are careful, and the two Brigadier’s do not meet, the danger is minimal. (Above all else, he will keep The Brigadier safe.)

-

He discovers the discarded crystal quite by accident and its presence explains so much. He should have recognised the signs of the Black Guardian’s interference immediately: only a Guardian would possess the level of cosmic influence to tangle timelines together so unobtrusively – his, The Brigadier’s and Turlough’s, all culminating in this one event.

Turlough.

He finds Turlough in the transmat capsule. As the young man turns, he watches the play of emotions that move through his eyes. (Guilt, trepidation, shame, wariness, defensiveness, defiance, frustration, anger; all of which are swiftly tucked behind a thin smile, one which could only be discerned as meaningless by someone who has used it just as often.) He banters routinely with The Brigadier, aware of Turlough watching him pensively. “By the way; yours I think.” He casually tosses the crystal up to Turlough.

(The crystal is a telepathic receiver. He suspects that the link has been used to violently afflict Turlough at least once already. He will not risk severing the connection until he is absolutely certain that there will be no lasting damage to the young man as a result.)

-

He asks The Brigadier to try and remember where he had been as these events had transpired in the past.

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!” The man needs to understand that meeting another aspect of yourself is dangerous!

The Brigadier is sceptical. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Almost certainly catastrophic.” The prime example of the severity of the consequences is standing right here! “You’d exist twice over.” Or Three times (or Five times) over even. He looks at his friend pointedly.

The Brigadier concedes the point. He eventually concludes that his Younger self didn’t board the TARDIS with Nyssa and Tegan.

(In hindsight, he should have known better than to the trust memories where multiple selves were concerned.)

-

He sends Turlough to search for the TARDIS. “Brigadier, I want you to come with me.” He wants to keep the man where he can see him, just in case.

When they find the Gallifreyan technology, his worry returns. The regenerator is active and has been highly modified. (Someone has been meddling with temporal forces beyond their comprehension and the surplus of time molecules flooding the laboratory could have an adverse effect upon a linear mind if their time streams began to shift.) Then he loses The Brigadier (he must find The Brigadier, he MUST, he cannot leave the man unprotected in his vulnerable state) but finds the TARDIS. His relief at seeing Nyssa and Tegan again is short lived.

“What do you mean you brought The Brigadier?”

“You mean he’s here with you as well?”

(There are TWO Brigadier’s aboard the ship. There are TWO aspects of the man, and both are currently unaccounted for. He has to find his friend – both of him – FAST. If the two of them meet, there is no telling how great the resulting devastation will be.)

He runs as fast as he can, panic building in his chest. He bursts back into the laboratory, and – “Brigadier, thank goodness you’re all right. One of you, anyway.” But where is the Younger?

Mawdryn waxes lyrical about his pitiful state and the torment of unending death, calling it the Time Lord’s curse. Righteous fury propels him forward. “It’s the result of your own criminal ambition.” The fools had chosen to break some of the most fundamental laws of Time, in their arrogance and desperation, to gain immortality. (And they have been fortunate. There are other Rules which would have resulted in far worse ramifications for them if broken.) Many lesser temporal races desire the power and longevity of the Time Lords, but they never stop to consider the bitterness of immortality.

They plead for his help.

“No!” His response rings with firm conviction. “I can only regenerate twelve times.” That was the allotment that had been laid down by the First Council in the old days. “I have already done so four times.”

“They want your remaining regenerations?”

“I cannot do what you ask.” Regeneration energy would indeed purge the unending death from their systems, but the choice is not his alone to make. (He has no right to deny his future selves their existence. With no more regenerations, they cannot exist.)

Mawdryn sneers. “Accept the consequences of your actions.”

(He has never had a choice about that.)

-

As they make for the TARDIS so they can leave, The (Older) Brigadier begins to realise the perils of not knowing where his Younger self is. “Doctor, we are talking about six years of my life!” Though he is worried about much more than that, he understands The (Older) Brigadier’s reservations perfectly and he sends Turlough to find The (Younger) Brigadier. As he programs the flight details, the girls discuss the tragedy of Mawdryn and his people.

But his sympathy for them is limited, tainted by an over-exposure to Rule-breaking, the suffering his selves have endured and a sense of resignation regarding his own fate. “Sometimes you have to live with the consequences of your actions.”

The TARDIS moves forward in time, slowly and gently. (She is being overly cautious and his hearts contract apprehensively.) Tegan and Nyssa begin to age rapidly, having been exposed to Mawdryn’s mutation. (He, The Brigadier and Turlough have been shielded by the fluctuations surrounding their present time streams, he realises.) When he attempts to travel backwards in time, the girls begin to de-age instead.

There is only one way to repair the damage that has been done to them. 

“Take me to your laboratory.”

-

He gives the job of activating the regenerator to The (Older) Brigadier. His old friend has been rather subdued since they had re-entered the laboratory. But to save Nyssa and Tegan, he has no other choice. (He is overwhelmed by his grief for the barely-remembered Six, and for all his other future selves that he has yet to know. This is murder.) Theoretically, a Time Lord’s current body should survive the procedure and be left with a linear lifespan. (But he, Five, will not survive this. His future is intertwined with his past, and the shattering of his time stream will also kill not only HIM, but most of his past selves as well.)

“Now.”

The machine builds up power, preparing to extract his regeneration energy. He can feel the approach of the transfer. (Two is paralysed as they prepare to operate and is unable to scream. But there is no future self to rescue him this time. He continues to not-scream as he is dissected cell by cell and gene by gene.) He listens to The (Older) Brigadier count. (He clings fearfully to the numbers, about to lose everything of himself.)

“Thirteen, Twelve, Eleven –”

The door slides open and The (Younger) Brigadier enters. (As soon as he sees the two of them in the same space he forgets to be frightened for himself.) “No, Brigadier, get out of here!”

“ – Ten, Nine…” The (Older) Brigadier stops as he sees The (Younger) Brigadier.

The (Younger) Brigadier stares back. “Who on earth…”

(No! No, not The Brigadier! But there is nothing he can do except watch helplessly.)

“I remember.” The words are spoken with reverence and clarity as The (Older) Brigadier reaches out. The (Younger) Brigadier reaches back and their fingers touch.

[At the moment of convergence, there is a dark and vengeful scream. Turlough shudders as it passes through his mind and the crystal in his hand cracks under the pressure of the prohibited interaction.]

The soundless explosion resulting from the convergence is buffeted by the surplus of time molecules, its focus redirected from its point of origin. The massive discharge of energy supplants him in the transfer and the TARDIS soaks up all the residual temporal debris. The clash of sensations makes him reel. Numbers dance across his mind and it takes a few moments for him to realign his thoughts around them. 

(At the moment of convergence, he had been aware of EVERY possibility of how things could have transpired, of every death, every un-existence that could have been. He is left feeling ill and shaken in the aftermath.)

The first thing he does is check Nyssa and Tegan have been restored to normal, and that The (Younger) Brigadier and The (Older) Brigadier are alive and relatively undamaged. He wants to break down and cry with gratitude when he finds they are. 

(Then he turns his attention inwards. His past – and future – selves are safe as well.)

-

He returns The (Younger) Brigadier back to his own time. He feels guilty as he leaves his friend unconscious on the ground, to be found by his colleagues at the school, but there is nothing he can do for that man in this moment.

-

“How are you feeling?” He asks The (Older) Brigadier once the Younger aspect is back where/when he belongs.

“Haven’t felt so well for…for at least six years.”

-

“I’m not that easy to get rid of.” Turlough says with a coy smile. “Doctor, may I join you?”

“I think you already have.”

-

“Drink, Doctor?”

He shakes his head and while he waits for The Brigadier to settle into a chair he listens to the other man breathing. (The convergence COULD have killed the man – one, the other, or both. The shadows of those possibilities will haunt him for the rest of his lives.) He takes comfort in the knowledge that his friend is still alive.

The Brigadier downs half his glass. “Meeting yourself should be impossible.”

“It’s forbidden, but not impossible.” His hearts ache as he looks across at his friend. “I would have spared you the experience, if I had been able.”

“At the cost of your own life?” The man asks shrewdly. “I think not.”

There is really nothing he can say to argue with that.

“And in any case, it didn’t hurt THAT much.” The Brigadier rubs one hand across his face before abruptly stiffening and looking up in dismay to meet an understanding gaze. “Did it hurt like that for you, all that time?”

He considers the question. He does not want to belittle The Brigadier’s pain, but the man will know if he is being dishonest. “Well, there is a difference between meeting yourself from a linear perspective as opposed to meeting another self. A linear being is one single individual. A Time Lord’s other selves have personalities each their own; one man, multiple aspects.” He smiles wryly. “Of course, you are quite familiar with that.”

This provokes a smile. “Yes,” The Brigadier agrees dryly.

He smiles gently in return. “Fortunately your exposure was brief, in both instances. The regenerator absorbed most of the ‘zap’ from the contact, and the space between the two points in your timeline took the brunt of the damage.”

“So, my memories of you, then?”

He nods once. “Suppressed. An efficient measure to protect your mind until the event began again.” (The Brigadier considers all aspects of him to be The Doctor – he would not have been able to recall one man and not another, and remembering multiples of him together would have restored the memories too soon, destroying his mind utterly. And so all of the memories had to go.) Before the man can apologize for forgetting again, he makes an apology of his own. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t do anything for your Younger self.” He thinks about what advice he would have offered if he had been given the opportunity. “I learnt much from that business with Omega.” (And a tomb he has been present in four times over so far.) “As the First, there was not much I could do except worry about what the others would remember. But by the Third, I had remembered everything anyway. You should be all right from here on, now that it’s over for you.”

“Good.” The Brigadier lowers his glass. “And the Second. Was he all right?”

“He…I…” His hesitation over the unexpected question gives the truth away. “He said that meeting your other selves is entirely overrated.” These words trigger another memory, blurred by the presence of a distortion but still discernable. 

“I’ll drink to that.”

So did I, he remembers. “Offer me that drink again, Brigadier. Not now. Later. I accepted.” He lets his old friend ponder this before he adds quietly, “I’m glad you remember me.”

“I kept that lab for you, by the way. After you left.” The Brigadier watches him closely as he startles.

“You didn’t have to feel obligated to do that.”

“Oh, I know. But I wanted to.” A pause. “If only so you would always know that you were welcome to drop by.”

And at last, AT LAST, he is in a body that can say what all of his selves have wanted to. “I was always grateful, Brigadier. For everything. Even if I was not able to say it. And I always will be.”

“I’ve always known that, Doctor.” The Brigadier raises his glass in salute.

-

Turlough’s various attempts to kill him are lacklustre and it is quite clear that the young man does not WANT to kill him. In fact, Turlough is very quick to switch tactics, instead trying to separate him from his TARDIS, as though leaving him stranded and helpless is comparative to the murder that is expected.

He does not attempt to confront Turlough, nor talk him out of his task. (He does not wield his future knowledge as a weapon.) He knows that Turlough suspects him at times of knowing, but neither of them ever allude to the subject.

What he does offer Turlough is friendship. Despite Nyssa and Tegan’s initial scepticism he continues to reach out to the young man amicably, demonstrating his trust and confidence – both of which are sincere – as he begins to show Turlough how to interpret some of the TARDIS systems. 

As their friendship grows, Turlough becomes more conflicted. But he still does not attempt to influence the young man’s decision. The final choice must be Turlough’s alone. And no matter the decision, he will respect Turlough’s right to choose his own future.

-

Nyssa has grown much over their time together. He is torn between pride and sorrow when she announces her intention to remain at Terminus, but he is not really surprised at her resolve. Nyssa is a compassionate soul. After losing her own world, she found appeal in saving the worlds of others, but she has always longed for a more personal application of her talents. A hospital would suit her nature. He understands the calling to be a healer, to want to help people, better than anyone.

“Here I have a chance to put into practice the skills I learnt on Traken.” She is determined to put the knowledge that her father had taught her to good use, to honour his memory. “Please, let us part in good faith.”

“You’re a very brave person. I wish you every luck.”

Nyssa kisses his cheek and wraps Tegan into a firm hug. As he watches her, he thinks that her father would be proud. (He thinks of Tremas, of The Master, and the proud smile that was given when he told his friend he had chosen the Name ‘Doctor.’) He averts his gaze, unable to watch Nyssa’s farewell to her dear friend. 

But his guilt and sorrow do nothing to lessen his pride in her, and so when she turns back to look at him, he tells her the truth.

“Your father would be very proud of your decision, Nyssa.”

Her answering smile is brilliant.

-

[Once The White Guardian reveals his presence to The Doctor, it signals that the phase of the game involving Turlough is drawing to a close. Whichever Guardian wins the game shall relinquish the pawn as they see fit – back into linear time or into the dark embrace of a timeless death.]

[The race is on, and the prize…is Enlightenment.]

-

When he confronts Captain Striker about manipulating his crew out from their time zones (a misuse of power in this fashion is always despicable, will he never be free of it?), Striker turns to him with mild interest, as though his objection on behalf of ephemeral beings is quaint.

“You are a Time Lord. A Lord of Time. Are their Lords in such a small domain?”

It has been a while since he has taken offense on behalf of his entire species. (Strangely, the potency has not been diminished by his negative experiences.) “And where do you function?”

“Eternity. The endless wastes of eternity.”

They are Eternals, he realises, those who exist out of time. His impression of them is not one of a high regard. Their conceited nature almost rivals that of the High Council. (‘Superior beings do not punish inferiors’ indeed. And yet it is the ‘superiors’ who determine what is and is not considered ‘punishment.’) The Eternals are bound by the rules that they have set down for themselves in this race. He is convinced that someone has broken the rules anyway, by their own design or not – if there are Rules, there is always at least one person to break them – and the conviction of his thoughts allow the Eternals to imagine it. They depend upon ephemerals for the meaning of their existence, after all.

(Despite his distaste, he pities them also. He understands the emptiness of their ageless lifespan, and the joy that ephemeral beings can bring to an old soul.)

-

He finds Turlough unconscious in a corridor and the young man stirs at the call of his name, quick to hide the dark marks on his neck as Tegan voices her concern. It takes a moment to catch his gaze, especially as Turlough is actively avoiding it – the decision is approaching, and it must be Turlough’s alone – but when their eyes do meet, what he sees make his hearts stop.

Turlough’s eyes bear a comprehension of eternity and the perpetual torment of unending. It is a depth of knowledge he should not possess – he senses the Black Guardian’s will in this and he fears for the well-being of his companion. Turlough’s expression clears after a moment, but a lingering sense of desolate loneliness still remains.

He decides to return both Tegan and Turlough to the TARDIS, where they will be safe, but the Eternals get to her first, inferring her location from his thoughts.

“Your own fear gave her to us.”

(He feels an aching sense of loss and shame. He has not failed this badly to protect her since they had been caught by the High Council…and she had been restricted to a linear plane.)

Striker tells them to go up on deck, and Turlough panics. He stares, disturbed, as he sees eternity reflected once again in his companion’s eyes. Turlough misunderstands the look, and his voice is flat as he attempts to deflect the perceived disappointment.

He still cannot bring himself to interfere with Turlough’s impending decision. Getting involved where he is not wanted is a particular vice of his and has always seemed to cause more bad than good. He will not risk that with his companions. So unless Turlough asks him outright for his help, he can do nothing. He does not want to make things worse.

But Turlough does not ask for his help. Instead Turlough grows sharp and shouts, and he pretends he is uninterested and unconcerned.

He pretends right up to the moment when Turlough jumps.

-

He is dimly aware, through the shroud of horror that envelops him, that he is shouting. 

(He understands despair, hopelessness, isolation – he knows how it feels to lose sight of the value of your own life.)

How could he not have realised the scale of Turlough’s suffering?

(This is his fault.)

-

(He prays to the idea of whatever deity he had once believed in as a child that Turlough’s death wish had only been a temporary madness.)

-

Turlough’s screams for help are the most reassuring sign he could have asked for and he runs towards them. He comes across the young man, slumped against the wall, panting. His eyes are full of fear, feeling the weight of his own mortality with each thunderous beat of his heart.

“I thought I was going to die.” Turlough cries brokenly. He still wants to live, despite everything, he still wants to live.

(He wants to pull the boy into a tight hug and let him cry out his fear and anguish until all of his self-loathing dissipates, if only such things were as easily solved as that.)

“No.” (Turlough is worried about his other self – the young boy with unfocused eyes – concerned and loyal; the young man does not say what he really means.) No Turlough, he wishes he could say, you cannot die here – if you decide not to kill me. But he cannot say that.

-

The two Guardians meet, as this round of their game draws to a close.

“You will never destroy the Light.”

“Others shall do it for me.” Terror, despair, hatred, pain; they give strength to the Darkness.

“Dark cannot exist without knowledge of Light.”

“Nor light without dark. Your powers are waning.”

“Others will recharge them for me.” Courage, compassion, love, joy; they set Light aglow.

“Chaos will come again. And the universe will dissolve.”

The Black Guardian calls for the winner to claim the prize. The man untouchable to The Guardians – protected from conventional damage by an even greater devastation amongst his own selves – and the pawn whom was chosen both enter.

-

The Black Guardian is furious at his calm. “The war still goes on,” he threatens darkly.

“It seems Enlightenment is yours, Doctor.” The White Guardian says demurely.

“I’m not ready for it.” (He knows what choosing to possess Enlightenment would mean for him – and for his other selves. None of them would ever be ready for it.) “I don’t think anyone is, especially Eternals.”

“You were right Doctor, in judging no one is fit to claim all Enlightenment.” The White Guardian turns. “I can however allocate a share to you, Turlough.”

“The Doctor is in your debt for his life.” The Black Guardian reminds Turlough of their agreement. “Give me The Doctor.”

“The Doctor or this?” The White Guardian indicates the diamond. “The choice is yours.”

Turlough is almost overwhelmed by the choice. He stands calmly and silently as the young man glances up at him, assessing his reaction. (One would implore, Two would bluster, Three would lecture and Four would scold.) He maintains his air of quiet calm, allowing Turlough the space to make the decision uninfluenced.

Turlough makes his decision in an instant. “Take it!” He thrusts the diamond at The Black Guardian.

The Black Guardian screams and burns under the fire of Turlough’s conviction, his courage and compassion. He fades back from whence he came.

The White Guardian watches passively. “I think you will find your contract terminated.”

Turlough’s shoulders shift, as though a great weight has been removed. “I never wanted the agreement in the first place.”

He approaches Turlough at last. “I believe you.” He has always believed that, old memories notwithstanding. “Enlightenment was not the diamond. Enlightenment was the choice.” And Turlough chose life.

The White Guardian warns him of further vengeance. “He will be waiting for the third encounter and his power does not diminish.” They are two sides of the same force. “While I exist, he exists also.” He pauses, his expression bleak. “Until we are no longer needed.”

(For some reason, The White Guardian’s expression makes him think of The Black Guardian’s as he had been burning…)

-

Turlough peers into the room, fiddling with his tie. “Do you have a minute?”

“Certainly.” He replaces the roundel on one panel and removes another. “Here, hold this for me?”

Turlough crosses the room and takes the offered piece. “Thank you,” he says without preamble, “for allowing me to make the choice myself.” 

“You’re welcome.” He tangles his fingers in wires and keeps his eyes there. He and Turlough have long understood that they don’t need to look at one another to converse. (Sometimes it makes things easier to say if you don’t have to bear the weight of another’s gaze while you speak.) “And if you’re worried about The Black Guardian, he can’t come after you again now that your contract is terminated.” The Guardians are bound by their own rules too after all.

“That’s good to know.” Turlough sighs, watching as he separates four wires and pulls them out of the jumble. Turlough hesitates and he stills his hands.

“Turlough?”

Turlough slides down the wall until he is seated beside him. He waits, keeping his eyes on the wires. He waits. Finally Turlough sighs again. “I jumped.” He murmured softly. “I wanted to die.”

“I know. And I understand.” (He understands being driven by self-hatred and consumed by a dull ache left behind after intense pain.) “There have been times when I…” (He calls them in, knowing what awaits him. He takes the crystal and faces his fear, knowing what will become of him. He sees The Watcher and The Master, knowing what they both mean for him. His intent had not been malicious, but the acts and end results were the same. So were they sacrifices, or suicides?) “I’ve wondered whether death is preferable. But I’m a Time Lord. When our body dies, we regenerate.”

“To think I would’ve had to kill you more than once.” Turlough’s lip curls in a self-depreciating matter. “You died. Do you think it preferable then?”

“No.” He gazes up at the ceiling and feels Turlough watching him. (There is nothing preferable about carrying the grief of the ones who have come before in addition to his own.) “I have seen what happens after one’s own death. The people who are left with the aftermath, the ones who care for you, your suffering affects them as well.” (Polly and Ben; Jamie and Zoe; The Brigadier and Sarah; Nyssa, Tegan and Adric.)

“And when no one cares?” Turlough whispers, closing his eyes and slumping.

He turns to the boy. “I care. Tegan cares.” He reaches out and presses his fingers to Turlough’s wrist, feeling the soft thump of his pulse.

Turlough opens his eyes. His eyes are damp and tortured. “Help me.”

“Of course I will.” He smiles gently through the ache in his chest. “I’m a Doctor.”

(He cannot bear to lose anyone to grief and madness.)

-

“Come, kill me.” The Master spreads his hands wide. “Fault my little game.”

He refuses. The Master almost looks surprised. 

The King orders that The Master be placed in the iron maiden. As The Master shouts and struggles, the King gives him the choice – between The Master or Sir Geoffrey, between his old friend-and-enemy or an innocent human life.

He cannot assign values to an individual’s life. (The Master knows this, he has always known this.) So he braces himself (hates himself), anticipating the screaming. 

When TARDIS engines start up behind him, he wants to scream himself, wants to grab the man by the shoulders and shake him. (Why does he always force him into making that choice?)

-

“Allow me to introduce Kamelion.”

(Beneath the swirl of alternate personalities, it is hard to determine whether Kamelion has a will of its own.)

“You’re getting old Doctor. Your will is weak. It’s time you regenerated.”

(Has once not been enough? “Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor.” Will The Master be responsible for his next regeneration? And the next? And the next?)

They wrestle for possession of Kamelion’s mind in a clash of wills. The Master has always been the stronger one, telepathically. But he has far more experience with a shared consciousness, multiple strands that bind into one. And so he is victorious.

-

He leads Kamelion into a small chamber deep in the TARDIS. Burdened with imprints of the other wills he has been imposed with and the shadows of the forms he has taken, Kamelion needs to repair the synaptic damage he has incurred. (Although such protocol could just be standard programming, he likes to believe that Kamelion has a personality his own and wants to heal himself.)

“You understand that you may have to remain in isolation for some time.” He says apologetically. “In order to give your mind the best chance at recovery.”

“I understand, and I thank you, Doctor.” Kamelion tilts his head. “Such seclusion will be a welcome change. It will be…a relief…to have my mind be my own again.”

He tries not to shiver. (Kamelion is not him. Kamelion’s mind was designed to be one alone in the beginning, not one made of many. Separating his own mind from the whispers of others is necessary for Kamelion.) “Let me know if there is anything you need.”

He walks calmly away, leaving Kamelion to the purging of his thoughts. He hopes that the android can find the healing that has eluded him and his other selves.

-

Once Tegan gets over her indignation about the prank he and Turlough pulled about setting the coordinates for the Eye of Orion from the start, while gauging her sincerity for remaining aboard instead of going home, she finds another outlet for her frustrations. As expected, it is The Master.

She turns to him angrily. “Why don’t you report him to the authorities or something? Your people have a justice system!”

He smiles bitterly. “More system than justice. And given my own history, I prefer to stay away from their politics.” (He has had enough trials to last his lifetimes.) “From a bureaucratic standpoint, The Master and I are viewed in practically the same way.”

“But he’s a murderer! He’s killed hundreds of people!” 

“Yes.” He says evenly, his patience fraying. “I know.”

“He’s also constantly trying to kill YOU. And you forgive him, just like that?”

“You’d be surprised how many of my past associates have tried to kill me.” He pretends not to notice that Turlough has gone still, watching Tegan warily. But she seems unaware of the wider implications of her statement and continues her argument.

“But The Master actually DID.”

His tone turns haunted. “I am aware of that. I was THERE.” (He falls. It HURTS. His body is shattered.)

She goes silent, looking ashamed of herself.

He sighs. “Even if he is put before the Council, it won’t change anything. He would not be prosecuted for murder, not even for genocide. There are some Rules that are even more sacred to my people than the value they place on life. Under those Rules, I am far guiltier than he is.” (If the High Council were ever to grant amnesty, it would never be extended to him.) He frowns at her. “I understand, Tegan. I really do. But I will NOT hand The Master over to the Time Lords, and that’s my final word on the matter.”

Tegan’s response is to leave the room, but this in itself indicates that she is already regretting their argument. He waits until her footsteps fade before he speaks idly, as if to the room at large.

“Just in case anyone was wondering, I don’t blame people for attempting to kill me.”

“Oh?” Turlough asks mildly, fidgeting with the sleeves on his jacket.

“No.” He readjusts his piece of celery. “For me, the betrayal itself outweighs the actual offence.” He waits until Turlough shoots him a sidelong glance and he catches the gaze. “But I had known you were under orders to kill me. It was not your fault, you know. And it wouldn’t have been, even if you had gone through with it.”

Turlough’s voice is quiet but he holds his gaze. “I never wanted to kill you.”

“And that, Turlough, makes all the difference to me.”

Turlough considers this. They had been over this a few times, working through Turlough’s guilt over the few half-hearted attempts that had been made in the beginning. Turlough would never really forgive himself – and he understood that – but at least the acidic sting had begun to fade.

“So The Master…he killed you.” Turlough’s gaze drifts back to his sleeves. “And he wants to kill you. But you forgive him too?”

He hesitates, not knowing how to answer that. “Ye-es.” He hedges. “It’s…complicated.”

“You don’t have to talk about it.” Turlough shrugs, but the offer sits between them.

The Brigadier is the one who knows the most about it and he has never felt comfortable explaining the mess to anyone else before. But Turlough understands him on a (self-destructive) level that most of his companions have not. (He does his best to hide it from them most of time after all.) He can give Turlough the basic picture, and Turlough will listen without judgement.

“He was a friend, once. Long ago.” Very long ago. “There is a lot of hate and hurt between us. He wants to kill me and I want to save him. Sometimes he decides to help me…and sometimes I am forced to let him die.”

(He suspects that talking about it will not help in his case. Some wounds run too deep. But, if nothing else comes of this, at least the Eye of Orion will be restful when they arrive there.)

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though The Black and White Guardians do not appear again in canon, they will in the course of this series…
> 
> Turlough is one of my favourite Classic Who companions. I felt it was important not to gloss over his attempted suicide, as the serial seems to. That small niggle aside, I have always found ‘Enlightenment’ to have a fascinating psychological storyline. If you haven’t watched it, I strongly recommend it. 
> 
> Though I’ve personally never considered Kamelion a companion, I wasn’t going to ignore him. This is my explanation for his conspicuous absence until ‘Planet of Fire.’
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The War Games; The Three Doctors; Invasion of the Dinosaurs; Mawdryn Undead; Terminus; Enlightenment; The King’s Demons; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	18. The Five Doctors (Five)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe it: the final Five Doctors chapter. It’s been a long time coming. Enjoy!

-18-

-

An emergency session of the High Council is convened swiftly upon the discovery that the Death Zone has been reactivated. Concern grows when it becomes clear the energy is being drained from the Eye of Harmony, the very sanctum of their power. Two members of the Council – one suspected of sympathies towards renegades; the other in disgrace over a controversial rumour about a past regeneration – are dispatched to investigate and neither returns. The decision to summon The Doctor is immediate.

But The Doctor no longer exists. Not in any of his regenerations (One, Two, Three, Four and Five in this particular Temporal Moment.) He has been taken out of Time, and his time traces converge in the Death Zone. A ripple of discontent moves around the room. 

Another renegade must be chosen instead; someone who hates The Doctor enough to witness the Rule violation without attempting to separate The Doctor’s selves before the crisis is resolved; someone who cares enough about The Doctor to risk their own life to save him; and, most importantly, someone who is…disposable.

One of the Chancellors – forever unspecified on the official record – makes the suggestion.

The Lord President protests against involving The Master, but the members of the Inner Council overrule him and the summons is made. Eventually, it is decided that the Lord President, Castellan and Chancellor Flavia shall speak to the renegade.

No one else could be trusted not to shoot him on sight.

-

The TARDIS seems rather reluctant to land at the Eye of Orion if her travel time in the vortex was any indication, and when she finally does, she refuses to open the doors for him – though she has no scruples about allowing Turlough out. He finds her behaviour puzzling; pokes and prods until she relents. Once outside he gives it no further thought.

The Eye of Orion was the right choice to make. The contentment in Turlough’s smile and Tegan’s eyes match his own feelings.

“It’s the high bombardment of positive ions.” He tells his companions, as they all bask in the tranquillity of the atmosphere. This is just what they need. “We could all do with a rest.” He takes a moment to breathe. (One, Two, Three, Four, Five.) He feels momentarily at peace with himself.

-

[The First piece is taken.]

-

(His thoughts shiver. Wisdom and responsibility drain away; the grin of a young friend blurs, the smile of a dear child vanishes, taking the words ‘Theta,’ ‘Sigma’ and ‘Grandfather’ with them.)

He gasps in pain, clutching at his chest. A young man – whose name he suddenly cannot recall – asks if he is all right. He turns, looks at the young woman. He cannot remember when they met. Her name… (“It’s Miss Jovanka, isn’t it?”) Where have their names, his initial recollections of them, gone?

Something is terribly wrong with him. It’s as if…as if…

(---, Two, Three, Four, Five)

“As if I’d lost something.”

-

[The Second piece is taken.]

-

(Laughter and comradeship disappear.) The loss of Jamie is conscious – torn viciously from memories – and then the Jacket is not important anymore. (Colonel Lethbridge-Stewart becomes The Brigadier – he clings to ‘Alistair’ and the importance of the man remains even as the titles – wrong and right – start dwindling away.) The absence of music leaves a familiar ache in its wake.

He stares in blank horror, at the woman whose name is now gone entirely. “It’s fading. It’s all fading.” He is losing himself. “Great chunks of my past, detaching themselves like melting icebergs.” He cries out in pain again, his companions start forward in panic. “No, don’t look so worried.” (But the words are empty: he does not know when that desperate compulsion – protect his companions from the future – began.) “Everything’s all right. Everything’s quite all right.” 

But it is NOT all right (---, ---, Three, Four, Five) and his body crumples beneath him.

-

[The Third piece is taken.]

-

This time, he knows exactly what is happening as it occurs.

(The silence distorts. The sanctuary of a lab, the presence of UNIT, the necessity of scientific work; they all corrode away. His best enemy, already blurred, now fades even further; his boss is his friend – he should not call him ‘Alistair’ but the title is now missing. The steady, incessant tick of linear time halts itself.)

“I am being diminished. Whittled away, piece by piece.” He is losing the numbers – his current self depends on them for everything. He can be nothing without them. “A man is the sum of his memories, you know, a Time Lord even more so.” 

He is frightened. “Get me into the TARDIS.” (---, ---, -----, Four, Five) “I have to find…to find…” (He needs more than just the numbers: he needs THEM.) “My other selves.”

-

[The Fourth piece is taken…but the attempt is unsuccessful.]

-

(All knowledge of Time, Space, and the universe is swallowed by a vacuum within his mind. Everything that ever was, is, could be; never, forever, always and all that lies between; Rules and consequences, a moment of genesis and the taste of elixir: everything unravels from within him as though it is made of thread. And he can no longer recall what form the thread should take.) 

(---, ---, -----, ____, Five) He is ALONE. (He is SCREAMING, silently, within his mind – not with his own voice, but the voice of The Watcher.) 

“I’m being sucked into a Time Vortex. Part of me there already.” (The Watcher was borne from ____ and the splice running through ____ is the only memory of the others he has left.) “It’s pulling the rest.” (He braces against the echo of in his mind – not yet, not yet – he needs to find the others: --- comes before --- before ----- before ____) “I must send a signal, find them. I must be whole.”

But the PAIN is everything now. (ALONE, ALONE, ALONE, ALONE, he is ALONE) He searches desperately for some sign of his other selves, but he cannot find any of them. And when he tries counting again, there is nothing, NOTHING left: ---, ---, -----, ____, ----

(He has been left numberless. No past, no present; he is blank and empty. He is NOTHING.)

[“Doctor.” A young man with older eyes, so very far away, says. “Because you will remember.”]

‘Doctor.’ These companions are calling him “Doctor.” He clutches at the word tightly, the only thing that exists as he is consumed by the nothingness. He can only hope it means something.

Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, Doctor, (Doctor,) Doctor, Doctor, Doctor.

-

“And who might he be?” (The Doctor.) “Hmm? Good grief!” (He knows that voice.)

Someone is calling him. Some…………One…………

He opens his eyes. (One, ---, -----, ____, ----) “You’re here. You’re here.”

One helps him stand. He looks at his other self, then at the woman beside him. (Her face fills his mind with memories tinged with warmth and affection. “Grandfather.”) His granddaughter…Susan. He glances at the others, and is glad he knows their names once more; Turlough, who understands him so very well, and Tegan, who had first met the one who comes before him. 

“Regeneration?”

(Tegan had met him first and had been there when he and The Watcher touched; The Watcher, who had been borne of…Four! One, ---, -----, Four, ----) 

“Fourth.” He beams with pride as he says it.

“Goodness me, there are five of me now!” 

FIVE! (One, ---, -----, Four, Five) He is FIVE!

(It unnerves him, that he had forgotten that.)

He drinks in the sight of Susan as One then compels introductions out of Turlough and Tegan. Tegan is alarmed when his First self clarifies his identity.

“But you shouldn’t be here at the same time, with him.” (He knows from the shadows in her eyes that she is thinking of The Watcher, and what his presence heralded.)

“It only happens in the gravest of emergencies.” But this is no reassurance at all.

He braces himself as One sets about ordering Tegan around, and he leaps in swiftly before her indignation builds steam. “Humour him. I sometimes used to get a little tetchy. Fortunately, One mellows with age.” Then he smoothly volunteers Turlough’s help – as he had been highly amused by this last exchange. He and Susan trade conspiring smiles. (He thinks of when he was One; of Susan, of Barbara and Ian.)

One demands his attention and asks him what he remembers. (But there are no words that will describe the horror and desolation of existing without the Numbers. Nor can he explain how wretched he still feels, having not yet reclaimed them all.) He shakes his head.

-

One thinks it would be wiser to stay and wait in the TARDIS for their other selves, who are bound to be wandering around nearby. But he needs to find them now. (One doesn’t understand; he cannot. One was First – he will never know the pain, the loss that festers when another self is torn away, the rawness of the wound where their memories should be.)

“Evil?” Tegan interjects, and something stirs in his memories. (“You’re supposed to help one another.” Benton says rather pointedly.)

“How can you be so sure?” Turlough adds. (“That WAS the idea.” Jo adds.)

He and his other selves all need to be working together, as one, in order to be successful.

He reigns himself in, after one last insistence that they must go to the Tower – he knows they must – and settles on a compromise. As they work together to set up the scanner, he thinks of Jo and Sergeant Benton, and how they shamed him into silence, twice over…twice…over. (One, Two, -----, Four, Five) Two had known of both Benton and Jo before they had met him, just as he knew Tegan and Turlough, and he smiles. (But Benton and Jo were better acquainted with -----, not Two.) His smile fades. (-----?)

-

There are ----- ways into the Tower; above, below, and the main door. (A Number leaves his lips, but he still does not know what it is or what it means, and he grieves for that which is still lost.) He plans to use the main door. It is a direct approach to the problem. (And it will be the fastest way to reach his other selves.)

-

Tegan declares she wants to go with him. One is reluctant to allow it, but she is insistent. (He knows she is still thinking of The Watcher and regeneration. She is afraid for him.) He relents and agrees. Besides, he knows that Turlough can handle his other self just fine on his own.

Even if HE still feels contrite when One gives him THAT look for being impertinent.

-

As they walk he stays close to Susan, listening to her tell tales of her life with David. She is careful when asking him about how he has been, present circumstances aside. She understands the Rules and the delicacy of time travel. She knows that they have to be cautious. While it is not much, they take what they are able to offer each other and draw comfort from it.

(One, Two, -----, Four, Five. There is still a self missing, and he feels sick with anguish over the struggle to find him. But he hits barriers at every turn as he searches for the number that belongs with the others he has recovered.)

For some reason, he is not surprised to come across The Master and as he makes his way towards him, he tries to remember why this is.

“I know this is going to be hard to believe, Doctor, but, for once, I mean you no harm.” The Master, strangely enough, looks almost…relieved…to see him. “I’ve been sent here by the High Council. To help you.”

“You? Help me?” The words do not sound like his: the tone of them belongs to another self, but he cannot remember which.

The Master does not miss his confusion but takes it in stride. “The Lord President himself spoke with me. I’ve never had a more generous expression of flattery towards my evil, save perhaps from you.” He rolls his eyes at the man’s smirk, though he can easily imagine what must have been said. “And then I was offered a full and free pardon.”

“And you want their forgiveness?” This is unlikely.

“How well you know me. But I was also offered a complete new regeneration cycle. So here I am, to rescue you.” The Master grimaces, as though finding it repulsive to actually have to voice the words aloud. “Your other selves too, I suppose, though there is nothing I can do about your previous self, stuck in the vortex.”

He cannot prevent the shudder that wracks him at the mere mention of it and the man notices, of course he does. “Yes, I’m sure they were quick to mention that my very existence is at risk!” His tone is sharper than he means it to be and he tries to pull himself together. (One, Two, -----, Four, Five. Predictably, this does not help things.) “You must have enjoyed hearing that. I’m sure you had much to say about it.”

There is no hesitation to the reply. “A cosmos without The Doctor scarcely bears thinking about.” And now he does not know what to think. The Master takes instant advantage of his uncertainty. “Be reasonable, Doctor.”

“I am. I listened.” But he cannot afford to get wrapped up in their game; his other selves are here so there is clearly a larger game afoot. “I would prefer more positive proof of your credentials.”

The Master conceals his petulance well. “One of your other selves took it from me.” The Master softens for a moment, watching as he tries to remember.

(“You? Help me? Rubbish.” Hurt and anger and betrayal.) “Do you expect me to believe the fantastic tale you’ve just told?” His words are laced with an echo of scepticism not HIS own, and The Master scowls with recognition. (“I didn’t realise that even YOU would be so stupid as to make it impossible!” Three had believed it was The Master right up until the real villain revealed himself.)

(Three. THREE!) He inhales sharply. (One, Two, Three, Four, Five!)

But before he can say anything else, Cybermen appear.

He moves instantly to stand beside The Master. “After you.” And it feels like old times, to fall into step behind the man as they run. A weapon is fired, there is an explosion, and The Master falls. A cursory glance over him reveals the man is undamaged. He picks up the recall device as the Cybermen advance towards them.

He is determined to find out what is really going on. The Master will understand and would probably approve, even if it means he is leaving the man to deal with the Cybermen on his own. In fact, The Master would probably be impressed by his tenacity to make his other selves (and thus HIMself) his priority.

He activates the transmat, and finds himself in the presidential antechamber, where President Borusa, The Castellan, and Chancellor Flavia are waiting. “Quite a reception committee.” (He is surprised to see them in each other’s company: the three of them have always had quite a strained political relationship.) They had clearly not been expecting him. Good. That gives him the advantage.

And while he may still be shaken and confused – a normal side effect whenever he breaks this particular Rule – he knows that he has the presence of mind to deal with this small advocate of the High Council. (One, Two, Three, Four, Five; the Numbers once again present in his mind. And for now that is enough for him.)

-

“It seems I’ve done The Master an injustice.” (He feels ashamed of himself; just as he feels that Three had. He embraces both their shame for a count of Five before setting it aside. He has to concentrate.)

President Borusa does not even attempt to hide his contempt for the other renegade. “If he survived, I’m sure he will learn to live with the misjudgement.”

He counts silently to himself and refuses to rise to the bait. (It is dangerous for him and The Master to openly acknowledge that, even now, they would still defend each other from the Council. The Master accepting the offer to provide assistance has been telling enough, so he cannot risk arousing the Council’s suspicions further by appearing sympathetic.) 

The Castellan questions what he learnt while in the Death Zone. He does not remember anything, of course, but he does not need to know what happened during the last four times they have done this together. He has their sense of responsibility (One), ingenuity (Two), intelligence (Three), and knowledge (Four). 

He lays the facts as he sees them before the Council members. There are limited circumstances in which the First Rule can be broken, and even fewer that the Council – with no practical experience – are aware of.

“You accuse a Time Lord.”

Obviously. “I think it would be quite an important one as well.” He KNOWS it is an important member of the High Council, even if he does not remember who. The conviction burns within all of the echoes of his past selves so strongly that he can sense it even now.

The three Councillors are all professionally offended by the accusation, as is their wont, despite the fact that they shouldn’t be surprised: he is always accusing the High Council of corruption, and he is always exposing a traitor.

He points out the presence of the Cybermen. “Like the Daleks, they play too well.” Much of the evidence he had used at his trial, before his exile, had been about the evil forces he had fought; the Daleks, the Cybermen. Whoever has butchered apart his timeline clearly has access to that record. They are making a mockery of the personal statement he gave and – given that he had been denied the right to expose the treachery of the inner workings of Gallifrey at the time – this infuriates him.

He then presents the recall device. “This is the one thing The Master would be sure to keep on him at all times.” The traitor would have to have known The Master personally to anticipate the renegade’s behaviour. A homing beacon is revealed within.

“Which you gave him, Castellan.” Borusa says authoritatively.

Castellan? His hearts sink. He does not want to believe it. But he thinks of the last time he was on Gallifrey – to be executed, to preserve the order of the universe – and The Castellan’s involvement in that mess. He had been very diligent in his efforts to prosecute him.

The Castellan seems to be having similar thoughts. “The Doctor wants revenge!” 

Revenge? No. Not for himself; and certainly not in this body, with this face. 

-

The search of The Castellan’s office and living quarters turns up a casket bearing the Seal of Rassilon. (The sight of it disturbs him, sends an icy shiver through him, and he suddenly finds himself fighting off the sensations of the fracturing of Two’s mind, the tight squeeze of the Vortex around Four.) “The Black Scrolls of Rassilon.”

He speaks (only when he is certain that he will not scream, as Four is doing and The Watcher will do), but as he reaches for the scrolls they set themselves alight and the forbidden knowledge from the Dark Times burns.

He watches as Borusa condemns The Castellan, and as The Castellan continues to affirm his innocence, he begins to have doubts. But Borusa has always been prepared to take extreme steps to preserve the order on Gallifrey.

“No! Not the mind probe!” 

He is pierced by the horror in The Castellan’s voice (it echoes his own thoughts – the fear of invasion and separation of the layers of one’s mind – he would subject NO ONE to that horror) and he leaps forward, but the guards pull The Castellan away. Borusa halts him with reminders of protocol. 

Then there is a scream. He knows immediately what he will find.

The Castellan’s body is sprawled lifelessly on floor. “It seems you have been saved the embarrassment of a trial.” Much like the War Chief, The Castellan’s regenerations are long and arduous – and in his absence, a verdict will be reached for him before his new body wakens.

“And you have found your traitor, Doctor.” (Has he?)

In any case, he has been away from his other selves for too long. He needs to return to them, needs to see them again, be with them again. (He is beginning to weaken, his mind slowing, his thoughts crumbling.)

But Borusa entreats him: “I need your help and advice.”

He trembles with panic. “I can’t abandon them.” He will NEVER abandon his other selves. “Are they all in the Zone?” (He is failing, fading, and he can’t remember where they are.)

Chancellor Flavia moves towards him, concerned, as Borusa patiently reminds him that one is trapped in the Vortex and insists again that he stays in the Capitol. (He knows he has no choice anyway.) Compassion moves him to remain, for a while.

He follows Chancellor Flavia out into the hall. She attempts to reassure him, with all the professionalism and dignity that she has always possessed. But it still makes him sad to hear that she is ready to accept that Castellan was the traitor, simply because it is the official word.

“I’ve known The Castellan too long. He was limited, a little narrow, but always fiercely loyal to his oath of office.” The Castellan had long hated and feared any mention of the Dark Days, thus why their relationship has been so strained: he had often defended The Master’s interest in researching the darker chapters of Time Lord history during the Academy, much to The Castellan’s frustration.

The realisation hits him hard. The Castellan would NEVER have called for The Master if he had known that artefacts of Rassilon’s were being utilised. The temptation The Master would have to lay his hands upon them would be overwhelming. (For a brief instant, he thinks of a ring instead of the scrolls.) He turns on his heels. The Castellan is innocent! He must speak with Borusa immediately.

-

But when he bursts into the chamber, it is empty. He tells the guard to alert Chancellor Flavia as foreboding settles over him. The silence makes him feel uneasy (and makes him wish for Three’s company). He tries not to worry as he begins his inspection of the room. 

He is drawn, almost immediately, to the instrument. “The Harp of Rassilon. I never knew he was musical.” Nor Borusa; or at least he hadn’t used to be, but not all one’s selves have the same aptitude for everything. (He thinks of Two, of Three; of sound and silence.) 

Longing to connect with his other selves again, he reaches out, overcome by a strong empathy with Two. He plucks at a string. And then he HEARS the answer. “A musical key.” He speaks aloud to himself, as though addressing Two. “If it is a tune, what could it be?” 

He lets his gaze wander and sees the sheet music depicted in the painting on the wall. Of course! How obvious. His fingers move across the strings (he hopes that Two would be proud) and the wall slides open. He enters the room. 

A game board lies before him, drawn out into five segments. The first piece he sees is The Master’s, settled beside One’s. The time piece for Three is set as far away from Two as it had been able – a physical manifestation of a truth that goes far beyond this singular instance of meddling. There are no pieces within the Fourth segment – Romana had not been caught by the distortion, but suspended in the moment that Four was taken and enduring the two point seven linear seconds of his absence. And Four – he realises with a sickening lurch that Four had not physically met any of his other selves. (It’s not fair!) Even as pieces on a board, he is broken, divided and incomplete. He stares at his own piece. (He feels defeated already.) 

The figure on the far side of the room straightens. “Welcome Doctor.”

“Lord President.” He does not take the offered hand.

Borusa shows no remorse about The Castellan’s fate or reputation, and it seems that The Castellan had been right all along. It HAD been about revenge. The Castellan had been the one to obtain the ‘proof’ and arrange for the President’s arrest during the affair with Omega – Borusa had clearly taken that as a threat against his power. He had maliciously used the same scenario to destroy The Castellan in retaliation.

“Oh, Borusa.” He thinks of his old teacher years ago. He had been a good man. “What’s happened to you?”

Borusa has tasted power and held authority for the turn of ages. But he has become addicted to it. “I shall be President eternal, and rule forever.” He craves immortality and, corrupted by his lust for power, he is determined to claim it. “Before Rassilon was bound, he left clues for his successor.” But the answer lies in the Dark Tower, surrounded by many dangers.

“So you sent me to the Zone to deal with them for you.”

“I gave you companions to help. An old enemy to fight.” Borusa picks up The Master’s piece lazily. Of course: Borusa knew he would prevent The Master from claiming any of Rassilon’s artefacts, and that there was no danger the other renegade would usurp immortality first. (‘Nine out of Ten,’ The Master used to tease him when he got his experiments completely right, even if he couldn’t fathom why the excess energy had turned purple instead of green. Borusa has long been aware of the nuances of their relationship, and he had chosen to manipulate and exploit them both.)

He becomes angry. “Endangering my very existence!” Does he not care about this either? It would have mattered, once.

But Borusa dismisses this, with no concern for him (or the Rules) and is assured of his authority.

“I will not serve you!”

“You have no choice, Doctor. I wear the coronet of Rassilon.”

Fear creeps across his skin, but he does not let it show. (He cannot let the Numbers be taken from him again!) He stands defiant, preparing for the onslaught. (Onetwothreefourfive-onetwothreefourfive-onetwothreefourfive)

The Lord President orders him to bow, to submit to his will, and his mind is strong. 

His own mind is stretched out like elastic (one – his mind is old and has begun to fail – two – his mind splinters and fractures – three – his mind is wrapped within silence and plagued with isolation – four – his mind and his body are being torn apart – five –) before something snaps and he is alone again. He cannot stand against this alone!

His knees hit the floor and he is lost.

-

\---, ---, -----, ----, ----

-

-

-

-

-

-

-

Numberless. 

But if he is aware of that concept, then he must still exist.

Numberless is to be devoid of Numbers. What is a Number? Number: noun, indicating something is countable: a sign/word representing an amount; for showing position in a series; for marking something, showing what it is; a quantity. Number: verb: give a number to something; consist of a particular quantity.

Before this emptiness, there was knowledge. (4)

Question: What is beyond Numberless? Hypothesis: Numbers are Important. Prediction: Finding these Numbers will explain why he still exists. Testing: Basic, thus far. Analysis: Inconclusive. Conclusion: Further examination required.

Understanding follows a scientific method. (3)

Re-examine the evidence. Number: noun: also, a song or piece of music. Music: melody, song, tempo, rhythm, tune, (“ask him to play you a tune”/“At least I’m not colour blind”/“I like your music, and the jacket wasn’t so terrible”) recorder, piper.

Before this silence, there was sound. (2)

The words have meaning. ‘Number’ is a word. But there is another word that matters too; a word, a title, a Name that binds all of the Numbers together. (“I am The ------. The original, you might say.”) The Name was chosen, in the beginning, before even the Numbers were applicable.

The Name was chosen, and all else followed. (1)

But what is his Name?

“Doctor!”

Sound reaches him and gives him The Name back again. Doctor. DOCTOR.

“Concentrate. We must be one.”

Sensation begins to filter down towards him from beyond the void he is imprisoned within.

One (1): “Fight it, my boy, fight it!” Two (2): “Doctor! We need you! Join us!” Three (3): he tears apart all of his mental barriers to put everything that he is into the effort. Four (4): he is determined to get beyond it, even if it means tearing himself in half. 

They are all focusing their minds on him (5), calling him back to them from the darkness he is wrapped within.

The Doctor: One, Two, Three, Four, Five.

-

He finds himself standing in a tomb. He steps towards those who stand before him and looks at their faces, all furrowed with intent concentration. One, Two, Three. He senses another, not physically present, but concentrating just as hard. Four. All of them, together, calling to him. Five.

One. Two. Three. Four. And Five.

He breaks free of Borusa, who drops his staff. “You see Borusa. Together, we’re a match for you.”

“Perhaps. But you will never overcome me.” Borusa’s features twist with hatred and bitterness. “I am Lord President of Gallifrey and you are the notorious renegades. We shall see who is believed.”

But he is not afraid this time. (This time, he is not alone.) As he stands with his other selves, a voice booms in the air.

“This is the Game of Rassilon.”

Borusa approaches the slab where Rassilon’s body sleeps and he steps forward, but One reaches out and grips his shoulder.

“No, wait, my boy.” One says. “That was the voice of Rassilon. It’s out of our hands now.”

“Who comes to disturb Rassilon?”

Borusa announces himself and his intentions with much pomposity, to Rassilon’s clear amusement. Rassilon then turns his attention towards him and his other selves. Borusa names The Doctors as his servants, aiding him in his quest for immortality. Rassilon asks if this is so. Three and Two fiercely protest along with him. “It’s nonsense!” He shouts.

“Don’t listen to them, Lord Rassilon.” One calls out. He, Two and Three turn their heads to stare at him in quick succession, baffled. “President Borusa speaks the truth.”

“You believe that Borusa deserves the immortality he seeks?”

“Indeed, I do!”

(He does not understand, nor does he remember. Why is One allowing Borusa to win?)

Borusa takes the ring, and claims immortality, as he has desired to do. 

“Others have come to claim immortality through the ages.” Rassilon says. “It was given to them. As it shall be given to you.”

The stone effigies on the side of the slab begin to stir with awareness. Borusa cries out in horror and pain, and he is transferred into a spare slot in the stone. Once he has become a part of it too, the effigies all harden once again, immortalised in stone.

(He is grateful to see his companions startle on the other side of the tomb, freed from whatever command Borusa had imprisoned them within. He does not think that any of them will remember the void they were lost within…save perhaps The Brigadier, given the circumstances of their last linear encounter.)

“And what of you, Doctors?” Rassilon asks. “Do you claim immortality too?”

There is a resounding chorus of no. “All we ask is that we be returned to our proper place in time and space.” Rassilon agrees to do so. “One of us is trapped.”

“I know.” Rassilon responds. He returns The Master also; all of his selves watch the renegade disappear. “His sins will find their punishment in due time.” Rassilon says with dark amusement.

Three has tensed up, Two has slumped, and One appears indifferent. He feels rather miserable.

(This time, it had not been The Master’s fault. And there are some sins – some broken Rules – that are worse than others. Is the punishment a form of atonement in itself? What happens when it is not enough?)

“You have chosen wisely, Doctor.” Rassilon’s presence fades back into obscurity.

One is immensely smug as he and Three both turn to ponder him. “Did you know what would happen?”

“To lose is to win, and he who wins shall lose.” One quotes philosophically. Rassilon’s game had only been designed to discover who desired immortality. “He knew very well that immortality was a curse, not a blessing.”

(And Rassilon would never have shared the power with another anyway.)

He sighs and smiles. He is aware of how his other selves are all watching him, assessing whether he is all right. Warmth spreads throughout his chest. “Now it seems we must part, just as I was getting to know me.”

Two cuts in front of Three. “So you’re the latest model, hmm?”

“Yes, and the most agreeable.” He teases. The words, he thinks, are the right ones to use for Two. (Two had liked him best, of all the other selves he had known. And he realises that this is something that Two wanted him to remember.) He smiles warmly and Two beams at him.

“And our dress sense hasn’t improved much, has it?” Three says affectionately. 

“Neither have our manners.” One rebukes Three gently. “Well, goodbye, my boy.” One takes his hand. “You did quite well, quite well. It’s reassuring to know that my future is in safe hands.” 

(Hearing One say the words makes him want to burst with pride. One had never said anything like that, to any of him, after Omega. Hearing the words aloud means so much to him. He will accept the words for ALL of them.)

One is quick to move towards the TARDIS with Susan. He and his other selves call farewells after them both.

(His hearts pang with regret as he realises that this is the final time he will stand in this tomb, in the company of his other selves. He wishes he could have spent longer in their company. He is going to miss them all, so very much. He shakes off his melancholy.)

Two shakes his hands enthusiastically as he says goodbye, before turning to Three. He holds his breath as he watches them.

“Goodbye…fancy pants.”

“Scarecrow.”

(He remembers. He remembers the sincerity in Two’s farewell, the over-dramatic huff that was pure show. He remembers the regret and the sorrow of Three’s realisation that the pair of them would never have the opportunity to improve the convoluted nature of their relationship. He remembers. And he will always remember this moment, for both of them.)

The Brigadier approaches him and Three. “Well, goodbye Doctor. Doctors. Splendid fellows, all of you.” He doesn’t linger beyond those words, but he doesn’t need to because the sentiment is more than enough, as always.

And then he turns to his remaining self. Three shakes his hand in a much more controlled manner than Two had, and tries to keep his tone brisk. “Well, goodbye, my dear chap. I must say I’ve had the time of my lives.”

Sarah steps forward to say goodbye. “It was really nice meeting you.”

(He is struck suddenly by an empathy with Four: his best friend, his Sarah Jane Smith. “Till we meet again, Sarah.” And here they are; meeting again. Saying goodbye again.)

He is rescued by Three. “Thank you, Sarah Jane, it was nice meeting you too.”

He struggles not to laugh at the confusion on Sarah’s face as he is swamped by affection for Three. They exchange friendly smiles as they both take the moment and treasure it together. Then Three and Sarah depart.

He takes a moment to reflect. “I’m definitely not the man I was.” (But he is about to have them all back where they belong, within his memories.) “Thank goodness.”

[The distortions return the pieces, First, Second, Third and Fourth, back to their respective time streams.]

He takes a moment to breathe. (And count. The numbers flow smoothly for him again and he is thankful.)

Chancellor Flavia arrives, with a handful of guards. Her relief at finding he is safe is genuine, and he is grateful for that, in the wake of Borusa’s betrayal. (Anger has faded, leaving only pity in its wake.) But then his gratitude is outstripped by dismay when she declares that he must make a full statement to the High Council.

“It can form part of your inaugural address.”

“My WHAT?”

She takes his arm – he wonders if she senses his instinct to bolt like a skittish animal – and continues. “Doctor, you have evaded your responsibilities for far too long.” While she talks matters of state, he detangles his arm from hers as unobtrusively as he can. “Yet again, it is my duty and my pleasure to inform you that the full Council has exercised its emergency powers to appoint you to the position of President. To take office immediately.”

“Oh no.” Oh NO. No, no, no, no, no. NO!

“This is a summons no Time Lord dare refuse.” She cannot comprehend his non-answer. “To disobey the will of the High Council will attract the severest penalties.”

She says this as though he is not already aware of this fact.

He thinks quickly. “You have full deputy powers until I return.” He cuts across the beginnings of her protest against the unusual protocol. “You will address me by my proper title. I am Lord President, am I not?”

Then he turns and RUNS towards the sanctity of his TARDIS.

The old girl leaps into flight without any difficulties, sharing his sentiment. The joy and relief on his companion’s faces when they realise that he has no intention of returning to Gallifrey makes him feel giddy.

“You mean you’re deliberately choosing to go on the run from your own people in a rackety old TARDIS?”

“Why not?” He grins. “After all, that’s how it all started.”

-

The Consensio nebula is in its waxing phase presently, throwing spirals of colour through the lower atmosphere of the planet. He has never appreciated the unity of the strands of light to the degree he does in this moment: there are five distinct bold hues that stain the majority of the sky, interwoven around each other; another thin thread that tangles loosely across them; and lingering shades in the surrounding space that he has always considered to be included in the whole.

(It could almost be a tapestry of his lives. One, Two, Three, Four, and Five; Six; and those numbered beyond. Peace settles within his chest. He is whole again.)

“Harmony.” He stops beside the solitary figure seated on the cliff edge.

“Is overrated.” The traditional addendum lacks its usual contempt.

He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You still don’t deny it exists though.”

The Master glares at him. He smiles lazily in return until the glare mollifies slightly.

“I should point out –”

“Yes, yes; you were in the right, this time, for ONCE. I had realised that eventually.” The man does not speak, but he radiates smugness. “You can hardly blame me for having doubts! But despite everything, I still listened.”

The non-committal noise in response to this is quite pointed. “I loathe having to repeat myself.”

This stings. (He knows it shouldn’t, but it does.) “I.” (He stresses the personal pronoun emphatically.) “I! Listened. And I was not entirely myself. How was I supposed to remember our earlier conversation? I had lost Three!”

He is brought up short by his own words. He does not tend to Number his other selves aloud and his surprise at doing so, so effortlessly, swallows the rest of his sentence. (It is fitting that he Names Three, of all the others. Guilt still burns within him and he wonders if his old Number will always be tainted with the sensation in the future.) He breathes deeply. (He reassures himself that Three is indeed still within his memories, his past, not forgotten. He had been frightened that perhaps Three could have been severed after all, despite all the efforts towards his end in re-connecting with his other selves. But he is relieved to find that the recollections of that version of himself are still intact.) He subdues his tone. “It is always difficult to remember things when my other selves are involved. I still haven’t decided which is worse; having more or less of my selves present.”

The Master stills. “You…how many times has this happened?”

He splays his fingers out in front of him and tries to count. “…one, two…three, fo-ur, five…six, seven…eight…per-haps another…so, nine or ten, so far at least.” Omega, thrice over; (Seville, once yet;) Rassilon, all five of him now. (And perhaps another; for some reason, it is always hard to recall what number follows eight.) “But I can’t say for certain beyond that. Nor what the future will bring.” Another thought occurs. “I wonder if The Watcher counts.” Not another self, but part of one of his selves. “Eleven or Twelve…”

Laying it out in such plain terms suddenly feels very exposing. The Rule that must NEVER be broken, and his count already tallies as high as a regeneration cycle. He does not know whether he should be ashamed or frightened. (There is certainly no excuse for the warmth and pride he feels, thinking of his other selves.)

The Master wears a strange expression throughout his count, but at the mention of The Watcher the man clearly changes whatever he had been about to say.

“The Watcher.” A pause. “You knew.”

Logopolis.

“I guessed.” (“Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor.”) “I remembered.”

The man hums thoughtfully and begins drumming his fingers against his knee. “I nearly killed ‘Three’ today, too.”

He sighs. “We know.” The Master’s fingers stop at the plural pronoun. “You ‘nearly kill’ me often enough; even I am able capable of noticing.”

“Not –” The man cuts himself off, clearly frustrated. “The tomb. Rassilon.”

He frowns. The Master is rarely inarticulate, particularly about wanting to kill him. Why was this different? “Rassilon concentrated his will on you.” He recalls suddenly.

Fingers begin their drumming again. “My first regeneration. You remember?”

Remorse and shame ice over the inside of his chest. “Yes.” Of course he does. He could never forget that.

“It was vivid in my mind, as though I was there again. Only this time, I had the gun.”

He doesn’t trust the words that would follow if he opens his mouth, so he says nothing. The Master doesn’t seem to expect a response anyway.

The nebula shifts into its waning phase: the colours explode across the sky like fireworks before settling into fine particles of dust, suspended in the atmosphere.

“I should thank you. For offering to help in the first place.”

“Don’t you dare.” As though the very idea is abhorrent. “I killed you; I came to help you, even if I tried to kill you again.” Ah, interesting. He struggles to hide his smile, but the other man knows him too well and glares darkly. “If you mention this to anyone, I WILL kill you AGAIN. Horribly. Painfully. In the most humiliating way I can think of. Before stealing your TARDIS. And returning her to Gallifrey.”

As threats go, it’s rather impressive. (Even if they both know the last part about Gallifrey is a transparent falsehood.) He pretends to consider, just to watch The Master simmer with irritation.

“You have a penchant for dramatics.” He pauses. (He can almost hear The Brigadier’s dry mutter of ‘pot, kettle, black.’) “Besides, it was obvious that you were only interested in immortality from the beginning anyway.”

“Precisely.” The Master says smoothly. “I glad you are smart enough at least to understand that.”

Neither of them bothers with apologies, for any of it. But the silence between them as they continue to watch the aurora is a comfortable one.

-

When he re-enters the TARDIS, Turlough is lounging against the console. He does not say where he had gone, and Turlough does not ask. What Turlough does say instead is, “Susan. Very nice girl, I thought.”

“Oh, yes?” He smiles. (He knows what his friend is doing – offering another conversation to offset the one he has just had outside.)

“Yes.” Turlough glances sidelong at him, fighting to keep his amusement off his features. “You must be very proud. She’s rather fond of you, you know; had lots to say about her insufferable and wonderful grandfather.”

His smile broadens. “Tell me.”

Turlough does grin at that, and begins to speak.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have been enjoying this story so far, I encourage you to leave comments. As much as I would like to be able to read thoughts if I knew how (“Not the mind probe!”) sadly, I can’t. And I do so enjoy knowing what you are all thinking about this.
> 
> The definitions/terms for Number and Music were taken straight from a dictionary and thesaurus, naturally.
> 
> ‘Consensio’ = Latin for agreement; conspiracy; co-operation; harmony; plot.  
> I invented the nebula – as a point of interest, it is the childhood hideaway of the two Time Lord boys who had such problems with authority, in my head-cannon.
> 
> And as promised, long ago, I said I would explain what Rassilon did to The Master. But surely you didn’t expect me to explain everything just yet.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The Dalek Invasion of Earth; The War Games; The Three Doctors; Logopolis; Arc of Infinity; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Two Doctors; the minisode Time Crash; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	19. The Fifth Regeneration hurts the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodbye Numbers. Helloooo, Jacket!
> 
> (Five and Six conspired together and kept insisting that I keep writing more for this chapter. Enjoy their success.)
> 
> The Sixth Doctor is most often criticised for 2 things during his tenure: his (lack of) fashion sense, and the level of lethal action he took against his enemies. I have endeavoured to explore the reasons for them both.

-19-

-

Tegan is hurt. Turlough is missing.

When the Daleks appear, he almost doesn’t notice how quickly a weapon falls into his hands. And again. And again. (Even so, he remains very aware of each shot that he fires.) But he is swifter to relinquish the weapon when it is no longer needed than he was to claim it; he takes some small measure of comfort from this.

The Daleks capture him and harness him up to their duplication machine, preparing to copy his body and download his mind. “Your duplicates will return to Gallifrey. At our command, you will assassinate members of the High Council.”

Their plan sounds alarmingly like a prelude to war. (He thinks of Four, standing on Skaro for the first time, and the mission he was given.) He will have no (further) part in this! 

(The pain that tears through his mind as the machine activates tastes like the screams of The Watcher. But he has felt worse pain.)

The machine is designed to operate by destroying his mind. They have specifically programmed it to make allowances for a Time Lord – it is attempting to isolate the memories of each of his selves, to catalogue them in a neat and logical way in order for duplication to begin. 

But he is no ordinary Time Lord; his other selves have never been separate from one another, not even when they so wished to be. An indelicate and inflexible machine such as this will never be able to differentiate between them: Four (and The Watcher) is tangled with Five – Five interwoven with One – One enlightened by Two – (Two shadowed by Six –) Two and Three always clash together. (He knows what it is to be without them. And he shall NOT do it again.)

He swathes himself with memories of his companions also. Sentiment and emotion. Weaknesses, the Daleks call them. He will always believe them to be strengths.

It is the conviction he holds in himself (and his other selves) that drives the conflicted Dalek slave to release him. The duplicate has seen him resist the Dalek’s attempt to wipe him, and has rediscovered the urge to take his own mind back as well.

-

He must stop the Daleks. But Davros is here; freed from his cryogenic prison because the Daleks are desperate once again. Davros, their creator; the man himself must be stopped if this madness is to end. But if Davros cannot be successfully imprisoned, what other option is there?

(In anguish, he thinks of Four, of the moment when a decision was made, of the two small wires that could have wrought genocide.)

“Once before, I held back from destroying the Daleks. It was a mistake I do not intend to repeat.”

Tegan is aghast, both at him and on his behalf.

Turlough is silent. Turlough understands what it means to have blood on your hands, he understands war.

(This war must be prevented before it has the chance to begin, lest it destroy everything.)

-

The gun is cold in his hands and the emotions in his chest even colder. (No. No, he is not this!) He cannot do this.

“You hesitate, Doctor. If I were you, I would be dead.” Davros mocks. “Action requires courage. Something you lack.”

A coward then? He does not dispute this: he has been running his entire life. (But he has fired a gun before, driven by pity, compassion…or necessity.) So he hesitates. (“Think of all the suffering there’ll be if you don’t do it,” Sarah had said.)

But then there are shouts and gunfire from the corridor outside and he springs to the defence of the humans on instinct.

Davros promptly locks him out of the laboratory. (Davros will not take the risk that he may be proven wrong.)

-

In the end it does not matter what he would have chosen to do; the Daleks and Davros destroy each other and themselves, just as they had before. He hopes that this time, it is truly over.

-

Commander Lytton is the only one to survive, having dissolved his association with the Daleks as soon as it had been clear they would lose. He does not think much of this (or Lytton) at the time, too burdened by the lives that are lost. (But he does not forget.)

-

“I’m not coming with you.”

The world seems to tilt around him.

“I’m tired of it.” Grief burdens her words. “A lot of good people died today. I’m sick of it.”

(Has he done this? Driven her away, as he has so many others?) “You think I wanted it this way?” (The ghost of cold metal against his hands feels like an accusation.)

She shakes her head immediately. (He does not deserve to be relieved by the honesty of her response.) Then she speaks of her aunt Vanessa. “It’s stopped being fun, Doctor.” She offers him her hand, eyes bright. “Goodbye.”

He must take her hand because then she turns to Turlough, who all but staggers over to her, looking just as lost and aggrieved as he feels. Turlough’s grip on her hands is brief, but fierce, and it makes his hearts ache all the more.

She looks at them both, once more, committing their faces to her memory. And then she flees.

“No!” He cannot help himself. (He cannot bear it; not with too many dead and the sound of gunfire in his ears. He does not want these things to darken his memory of her farewell.) “No, don’t leave, not like this!”

But she must.

And he does not attempt to follow, because he respects that she must. “I left Gallifrey for similar reasons.” Davros had accused him of being like the other Time Lords. (He thinks of the High Council, and he does not ever want for that to be true.) Brave heart Tegan, he used to tell her, because that is what he always believed. “It seems I must mend my ways.”

-

(Tegan’s aunt was murdered by The Master. Nyssa’s father, step-mother, her whole world all suffered at The Master’s hands. Adric himself was a victim of Time. He feels guilty by circumstance.)

Turlough has spoken to him about death and The Black Guardian, and the difficulties he faced in his exile on earth. In turn, Turlough has listened to tales of death and The Master, and now of Davros and the Daleks.

They both miss the life, the heart of Tegan’s spirit.

-

Deep in the bowels of the TARDIS, Kamelion screams. But by the time he arrives, Kamelion has recovered enough to insist it was merely a temporary madness.

Kamelion has spent long peeling away the imprints of the templates that others have left within him, and yet it never seems enough to satisfy. He worries. (He cannot help but think of Three, even though he knows their situations are not comparable.) He still does not feel it is his place to interfere – Kamelion has the right to choose what to do with his own mind, as every individual does.

He instead applies himself to tracing the signal that may be hampering Kamelion’s efforts. 

He cannot help but let his thoughts linger on his other selves, for a moment. (Past…and future.) Something prompts him to don a waistcoat before they head out, but he doesn’t think anything of it.

-

“Peri?” The name leaves his lips in an almost-panic, sending his mind reeling with bewilderment.

He turns and sees her, standing in the doorway. (He knows her. He KNOWS her.) He stares. (He stands between her and Dastari, in case the weapon is fired.)

He touches his waistcoat gingerly. (No. The waistcoat he is currently wearing is plain. The one worn by his other self was/shall be full of colour.)

(No, he is not going to regenerate…not yet.)

-

“Snap.” He says, comparing the two designs. (“Snap.” Six will say.)

Turlough speaks haltingly of what he knows. Something about his apprehensive manner, his panicked anger that blankets an old fear, reminds him…of himself. (Specifically, of Two.) 

(He is seeing his other selves wherever he turns. He is not ashamed to admit that he misses them all fiercely, past…and future.)

The look on Turlough’s face when declaring that he is going to call a rescue ship from Trion, to save the people of Sarn, is one that he recognises immediately. (Two plays his wild card for the sake of the linear beings who suffered at the hands of the War Chief.) Turlough’s smile is self-depreciating. 

“I’ll be all right.”

(The more he hears about the Trions, the more he thinks that their Custodians would have gotten on rather splendidly with the High Council.)

-

Kamelion is still wearing The Master’s form when he begins to spasm with pain. But it is only as he reverts back into his original form that he articulates his wishes.

“Destroy me.”

(It is still difficult to determine, even now, whether Kamelion has a will of his own. It is still hard to say whether he had always been a slave to his programming, only a mass of circuits, or whether he had been more.)

But Kamelion has the right to choose. And so he honours Kamelion’s wishes and grants the request for resolution.

-

(“One of these days, you’re going to shrink yourself with that thing.” He laughs. His friend mutters ungraciously for him to shut up and scowls at the ruined mess of the experiment. When the laughter continues, the tissue compressor is thrown at his head, but he anticipates this and ducks before it can connect.)

A time ripple constricts around him unbidden, violently replacing one memory with others.

(The Master calls for the innocent people of Sarn to burn, and threatens to burn him. “Over the years, I’ve dreamed of a million exquisite tortures to accompany your final moments.”) (He falls. “Killing you once was never enough for me, Doctor.” His body is broken.) (The man hands him over to the Daleks. He is determined to hold a grudge.) (‘It’s not my fault,’ he wants to say, ‘it wasn’t me,’ but he knows these are both lies.) (He watches as The Master screams, caught between one body and the next as his first regeneration finally begins.)

The numismaton gas burns itself out, but the fire itself remains. The Master-of-Death is shouting at him, but he does not hear the words; he can hear nothing over the blood roaring in his ears. Had he a knife (or a gun) he would do it himself. Bereft of a weapon, he merely watches as The Master-of-Death burns (BURNING) until the man is consumed by the flames.

And then he falters in stunned horror as the time ripple dissipates.

(He is not an Androgum!)

What has he done? 

(As Two watches, a man is incapacitated by his blood brother. Two did nothing, said nothing, but later worried how deep this disregard for another’s life ran within him.)

What has he DONE??

-

Fortunately, Turlough’s fate is not what he had feared it would be. “My exile has been rescinded.”

“I’m pleased for you.” (He is also grateful that it will not be as his was: Two-and-Three’s punishment-and-exile ended with rebirth into Four.) “I shall miss you.”

“I don’t want to go, Doctor. I’ve learnt a lot from you. But I have to go back to Trion. It’s my home.”

He knows of the yearning for home. (“The TARDIS brought me home,” Three says, as he is dying.) And he knows that Turlough has not only chosen to accept the consequences of his choice, but he is also taking on responsibility for his younger brother, Malkon. He wants to take what he has learned, and teach it to his brother too.

He is so proud of his friend. “Better to go back while you’re a bit of a hero, eh?” He smiles.

“Thank you for everything, Doctor.” 

(Turlough has not only chosen life: he has also decided that he has chosen to live.)

Then, Turlough addresses Peri. “Look after him, won’t you? He gets into the most terrible trouble.”

His breath catches in his throat. (“Keep an eye on the old gentlemen will you?”)

-

He doesn’t give Peri an immediate answer to her wish to travel with him. If she stays, she will have to learn to expect such uncommunicativeness from him. (Wonderful, Two had thought, when they first met; are all of his future selves going to be so insufferable?) Fortunately, she is both persistent and stubborn.

“Welcome aboard, Peri.”

-

(He cannot help but feel guilty about the time he spends with Peri. He knows that she is really Six’s companion, not his. He worries about what he remembers: he and Six are not alike. He worries that the longer she spends with him, the fonder she grows of him; it will hamper her relationship with Six.)

(He wishes that he could remember more of Six. But whenever he tries, all he can think of is Jamie.)

-

The spectrox toxaemia spreads through his veins slowly. (Breathe, count one.) He does his best to ignore the way his body is sluggishly being poisoned. (It feels very much like Three, though the spectrox bubbles while the radiation had blistered. He thinks reverently of Three; Three who had been so strong, enduring the pain through silence.) He keeps his silence, keeps each expression of pain that is louder than a gasp locked inside. (He can be brave, just as Three was.)

Peri. He must find Peri. (Just breathe, one, two.) Peri is in the hands of Jek, and she is poisoned just as he is. He has to reach her. He has to save Peri. (An Androgum has her slung over his shoulder and calls for supper.) Nothing is more important than saving Peri. He cannot let Peri die!

(Breathe, keep breathing, one, two, three.) He scrabbles desperately for the cure as the poison boils within him. (She’s dying, Doctor; she’s dying, Doctor.) Peri, he must save Peri, he must. (He cannot let her die as he has; as he is doing now.)

(Don’t stop breathing, breathe, one, two, three, four.) She is dead weight (no, no, no, NO) in his arms as he staggers back to the TARDIS. (If this is the end, he must be in the TARDIS. He will not leave his next self to awaken without the TARDIS there, as he had.)

He gives Peri the antidote. There is only enough for one. But it’s all right, because Peri will live. And now that Peri is safe, his body crumbles and he falls back. 

“Is this death?” (Why has he not started regenerating?) “I might regenerate. I don’t know.” (Surely he must. He knows, has long known, that Six follows Five.) And yet. “Feels different this time.”

[Arc energy has travelled up his time stream, searching for his next regeneration; it crackles within him, awaiting the onset of the process.]

(Tegan: a strong spirit and a brave heart. Turlough: the survivor who chose life. Kamelion: a mind and a will that may have been more. Nyssa: the compassionate healer and scientist. Adric, with his mathematical badge for excellence: “Doctor.”)

“Adric?”

(He holds the numbers – so very precious to him – as close as he can in his final moments. He counts his companions: one, two, three, four, five. He counts his selves: One, Two, Three, Four, Five.)

(The Master’s laughter rings in his ears. “Die, Doctor!”)

The indignation that suddenly swells within him is very familiar and as old as he is. (Indignation, irritation, outrage, frustration, anger, resentment; they boil more sharply than the poison had, wrapped up in memories of Gallifrey, the High Council, Time Lords, fellow renegades and most emphatically The Master.) He most certainly will NOT die!

Regeneration is triggered instantaneously.

(Six.)

-

[The energy from the Arc of Infinity catches both him and Omega with backlash as there is an explosion, causing their forms to change. Omega’s form changes there and then, copying his appearance as a result of the earlier attempt at bonding. His own form is changed by the Arc energy further up his time stream – at the point of regeneration – copying the likeness of Commander Maxil: the Time Lord that he encounters after the attempted bonding, (whose face seems strangely familiar) when he is promptly shot.]

-

[Commander Maxil regenerates violently in a small accident moments before an extra-dimensional force, comprised of antimatter and intent on seizing the power of the Arc, obtains the biodata extract required for an assault. It is in this body that he encounters The Doctor and is suspicious of the recognition that flits across the renegade’s face; they have not met in person before. Later, there is another accident just like the one before – an exploding power conduit – and he violently regenerates again. He discovers that the timing of this regeneration coincided with a shift and explosion of the Arc. Maxil is wise enough to hold his silence about his theories regarding the appearance and temperament of his short lived body, the way that his memories of that body echo with another sense beneath his own.]

-

“Doctor?”

Yes, indeed; he most certainly is The Doctor. “You were expecting someone else?” 

-

“Well, Peri, what do you think?”

“It’s terrible.” Well, of course it is. Why on earth had he ever decided to wear something so beige in the first place? It’s utterly preposterous. “I meant you.”

No matter; she just needs to adjust is all. “I happen to be me.” Unequivocally, he is The Doctor.

But Peri does not seem to be impressed by his new physical appearance. She hands him a mirror so that he can look at himself. He humours her, but he already knows exactly what he looks like. (He remembers.) He thinks it’s an extraordinary improvement and tells her so, insulting his last incarnation just to see how she responds.

To his mild surprise, she is instantly defensive. (Has this ever happened before; someone defending one of his selves over another?) “I really liked you,” she insists, “you were sweet.”

He does not miss the fact that she is using past tense. She doesn’t like him anymore, now that he’s changed. She prefers HIM. (Even his other selves all preferred Five, he recalls jealously. Oh yes, Five was the favourite of all of them. And what for?! Five was weak and useless, so dependent on all of them that he would crumple at the very whisper of trouble. Well, HA. Now HE is The Doctor, and he does not need any of their approval!) He stalks into the wardrobe. 

Suddenly he finds himself surrounded by choices. But what is he? Who is he? He shrinks away from the enormity of the challenge that is trying to visually express himself. It’s frightening. It’s utterly hysterical.

When he shakes off his miniscule lapse, he starts to paw through the hangers and finds a thick fur jacket that stirs his memories. (Yeti and soldiers.) “No.” Not HIS. He tries on a velvet jacket next, but it feels too close, too warm around him. (An echo of radiation and fear.) He tears the velvet away immediately.

Peri is still trying to wrap her mind around regeneration. “It won’t happen again?”

He is inspecting his new body in the mirror. “Hmm?” An interesting question. He realises that he doesn’t know. (She has asked him of his future selves, but there are no echoes in his thoughts to indicate any others beyond him.) “May indeed.” (Or may not.)

He turns to another hanger and that’s when he sees it. 

Oh, no.

It’s The Jacket.

It is instantly recognisable, even though it has not been described to him for decades, and he experiences a moment of pure horror. It is a patchwork of bright colours and conflicting patterns. It’s gaudy, brash and distasteful. Must he be forced to wear that?! 

(“Aye,” Jamie had laughed. “The jacket wasn’t so terrible.”)

So he pulls it free and grins, chuckling to himself. 

Peri is appalled.

He stands in front of the mirror again, now wearing the jacket. After a moment of thought, he chooses a small pin shaped like a cat and affixes it to his lapel. (It’s not celery, but it is an acknowledgement. He may not like Five, and he certainly doesn’t need the good opinion of his other selves, but he will not repeat his mistakes. He will not make the error that Three did. He doesn’t NEED any of them, but nor will he disregard any of them.) He decides he can swap out the pin regularly; he has plenty he can cycle through, he doesn’t need to stick to one. He surveys the finished article with satisfaction.

“You’re not serious.” Peri deadpans. (“You should see his jacket.”)

“I’m always serious.”

-

He is firm with the TARDIS, asserting his conviction (he is The Doctor), and she accepts his direction. (He feels victorious to be proven right so early.) Peri emerges and he insults her outfit just as she had his. (So there.) Then they discuss their destination. 

“I would have taken you to the Eye of Orion, but…” He pauses. (Confusion overturns his thoughts. The Eye of Orion was supposed to be restful. But all he can recall about it is pain – because Five had forgotten the numbers and the names.) “Peri?” He looks at the young woman before him. “How did you come by a name like that?”

“It’s a diminutive of my proper name, Perpugilliam.”

Her proper name! Her proper name?! He – he has never known this! She had been introduced to him as Peri (twice over) and he has been addressing her as such since. Why has she never bothered to inform him that he has been using a more personal, intimate, shortening of her name before? He has not asked her permission, nor declared his intention to do so! How dare she? How DARE she allow him to take liberties with her Name?! (Why has she done such a thing? Has she no concept of what it means; to deliberately mislead a Time Lord about one’s Name?!)

A hot fever of suspicion races over him. (If she has lied to him about this, what else is she concealing?) “A peri is a good and beautiful fairy in Persian mythology. The interesting thing is, before it became good, it was evil. And that’s what you are!” She moves away from him, frightened. (Everyone he has ever trusted has betrayed him in the past, so why not now?) “Sent here to spy on me!” He would not put it past the High Council to employ such tactics! They have long interfered in his life. Well, not anymore!

He lashes out in fury and she screams. They struggle for a moment before the flash of her mirror blind sights him. He staggers back (away from his reflection) and then realises that his hands had just been around her neck. He chokes back a sob.

“You tried to kill me.”

“What you say is impossible.” (He would never – could NEVER – strike out at a companion.) And yet, he watches as Peri shies away from him and…it hurts. (He HURT her!) “Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.” (He had become so angry, so quickly.) “Unregenerate?” (This was the title given to those who had been driven mad – mainly in the Dark Days – by a skewed regeneration. But, no, he is no unregenerate. He can be honest with himself: this anger is nothing new to him.) Whatever man he may be now, he is still The Doctor; he is still himself.

(However…precautions may be necessary.)

“I am a living peril to the universe.” (His temper is much closer to the surface than it has ever been before. He is concerned about just what else he may be capable of.) He has already struck out at Peri in a fit of anger. “I shall become a hermit.” He will go into exile until he has atoned for almost-killing-Peri. (He cannot undo his regeneration, nor change what he is. While physical traits are occasionally able to be influenced during regeneration, the personality is not so easily altered.)

(He cannot change his temper. But perhaps, in time, he can learn to control it.) 

-

It’s not that he is ashamed of himself, he thinks, not at all. 

But he cannot deny that he leaves the TARDIS almost immediately after the almost-killing-Peri incident, setting off in search of a cave of some sort, some utterly comfortless place. (The old girl doesn’t have to witness him behaving so…so.)

-

They are confronted by hostiles and he is taken unawares by his own terror. (His fear is sharper too; it feels as potent as it had been when he was just a child. Fear and anger; is this what he has been reduced to? Surely he is capable of more than this?) He hides behind his companion. (His companions always make him feel safe.) 

“Thanks a lot, Doc.”

The slight brings him up short. “Kindly refrain from addressing me as Doc, Perpugilliam.” (Peri. Perpugilliam. Which is right? Which should he use? Which does she want him to use?)

-

He regains control of himself, and fights to KEEP control. 

They are taken to see an old man. “There’s a face that floats upon my memory.” It is difficult to search his memories at the moment, but he manages it. “Azmael!” The man is flustered by his easy familiarity. “You drank like twenty giants and I had to push you in the fountain to sober you up.”

“You have to be The Doctor.” He beams, but it is quick to fade when Azmael speaks again. “I wish I could extend the hand of friendship.” (This time, his frustration builds slowly. Here is yet another Time Lord who does not value his friendship as much as their own selfish ambitions. Well, of course; why should he ever hope for the contrary?)

“You were always full of good intentions, Doctor.”

(He wonders whether he still is.)

-

When he re-joins her, Peri appears highly distressed. “I thought you’d been killed.”

“You…cared?”

“Of course I did.”

This only compounds his confusion. “I have spent the day using, abusing, even trying to kill you.” And yet, still she cares. (She cares about HIM too, not just Five. She was worried about HIM.)

“It’s called compassion, Doctor. It’s the difference that remains between us.”

(Has he no compassion anymore? Well, if so, he can only hope that she will stay then, and help him find it.)

-

“Azmael, Edgeworth,” he mutters as he hears the raised voices, “still bullying children.”

(In the space of a mere breath, his mind is crowded with memories of all those who had bullied him as a child and he is overcome with the need to make them STOP!)

He leaps across the room and his hands fall around the bully’s neck. He is wrenched away by others and his mind reels. “I apologise.” (Yet again, his rage has turned upon a friend. If he cannot control it, he must at least keep it from harming those dear to him!)

Then he discovers that Peri has been apprehended. “Peri! They’ll kill her!” No, no! “I must help her!” 

(It seems he has retained the knowledge of compassion, and affection, after all.)

-

Peri is alive, she is alive! (He still has a chance to atone for almost-killing-Peri. He has retained compassion and he will relearn how to use it. He can show her that they are not truly as different as she had first thought.)

-

Mestor picks at the edges of his thoughts, but attempting to find anything of use in his mind is always fruitless so soon after regeneration. Mestor grows angry at the lack of success, turning his anger onto another, and with his very thoughts he fries the other’s body and mind.

He is highly disturbed by this. (He imagines what would become of the universe if HE had that ability, given the rage that festers within him.)

-

There is a plot to invade the universe, to destroy the free people of the galaxy. He cannot afford to be cautious. Perhaps his anger can be focused, utilised in such a way that it can still be a force of righteousness. He will find that which is evil and destroy it.

-

He does defeat the evil of Mestor. But Mestor manages to take Azmael with him. He cradles his old friend through the end.

(He has watched too many friends die. He must take care – especially in this new body of his – that no more perish in his battle against evil.)

-

Peri compares him to his former self AGAIN. “We all have to repress our feelings from time to time. I suggest you get back into the habit.”

“And I would suggest, Peri, that you wait a little before criticising my new persona. You may well find it isn’t quite as disagreeable as you think.” He draws himself up. “I am The Doctor. Whether you like it or not.”

(Perhaps he has more in common with The Jacket – HIS jacket – than he first thought. They are what they are, whatever anyone else thinks. He is The Doctor, jacket and all. And he will make sure that everyone else knows it too.)

-

His anger, he discovers, is not the only trait that has been heightened in this body. His confidence has been amplified into arrogance; his determination borders on obstinacy; disappointment is eclipsed by contempt. (His sense of justice has become entrenched in retribution.)

All of his lives, he has been struggling against those who oppose him because of who he is and what he stands for. The majority have been cautious, because they have never been able to state WHY they hate him without exposing the truth of themselves.

But now…he can give them a version of himself that they can openly despise. And he wonders how much this will change things.

-

(He decides to continue calling her “Peri,” and he does so most of the time. It was the Name that he knew her as, long before he had met her, and she has always accepted this Name from him. But he also, on occasion, calls her “Perpugilliam.” He respects her too much not to use her ‘proper title,’ even if he has realised that she has no idea of the Importance that Names have to a Time Lord. “Perpugilliam” is also a constant reminder to himself that he almost-killed-her over it. And he shall NEVER make that mistake again.)

(He also occasionally addresses her by other names from his past. The first time is an accident, the subsequent times are not. It is penance, to deliberately address her by the Wrong Name, without assent, in the face of their friendship.)

-

The dynamic between him and Peri is vastly different than it had been before his regeneration.

Peri will say: “Look, Doctor. I’ve never seen a forest as green as that before. Isn’t it beautiful?”

(Five would have replied with an agreement, selecting an example of greenery and expounding on the features that contributes to its beauty.)

He replies: “Those plants aren’t even green. You perceive them as being green only because they cannot absorb green visible light; what you are actually seeing is the green light being reflected into its environment. As a matter of fact Peri, that forest is every made up of every colour EXCEPT green. In any case, the appearance of the trees is irrelevant. The stones, Peri! It’s the stones we need to inspect!”

Then Peri will roll her eyes and follow after him. Even so, she had still found the information he had presented her with fascinating.

(Even if they cannot express it in the same manner as before, they both still care.)

-

Not even the TARDIS is immune to his more presumptuous moods. Still relatively new in his body, he begins fiddling with the chameleon circuit, telling Peri he has been thinking about changing it. After all, it is rather conspicuous, turning up all over the universe as a big blue box. (Peri, very wisely, says nothing about his jacket.)

The old girl humours him for a while, shifting her outer shell from one ostentatious thing to another, before reverting back to the Police Box. She is staying as she is.

(He is grateful that she, at least, is still imposing limits on him. If nothing else can contain or control him and his new personality, at least he knows that she can and will.)

-

The mere sight of Lytton sends distaste (and resentment) crawling across his skin. The last time he saw Lytton (Daleks and Davros and Tegan and Turlough) – Lytton had been trying to shoot him!

“Your regeneration has made you vindictive, Doctor.”

(Yes. Perhaps, it has. He discovers in this moment that he doesn’t care.)

“I’ve never found it difficult to despise people like you.”

Especially when Lytton begins to mock him, bringing up the events of the destruction of Mondas and the way he is constrained not to interfere with the upcoming past event. “He would transgress the laws of time.” (The stupid man has NO IDEA of what he speaks of! The Laws are beyond this fool’s comprehension!) “The Time Lords would have him destroyed.” (There is more accurate than even Lytton thinks.)

Just let them try (again), he thinks as he sneers at Lytton. (If they do, things will be different.)

-

The Cybermen are planning to prevent the destruction of Mondas.

“The Time Lords would never allow it.” (He had been there, when he was One, dying and regenerating under the strain of the Rule that he had broken. There is danger that if history is changed then, the Rule-Breaking will be exposed.) The High Council would be forced to act.

“Perhaps their agent is already at work.”

The realisation strikes him swiftly. “No!” He whirls around and shouts at the room. “You haven’t manoeuvred me into this mess just so I can get you out of it!” (Those ingrates, those good-for-nothing, underhanded scoundrels!) Fury races through his veins. “It would have helped if I had known what was going on!” How DARE they send him on a mission without his knowledge and consent – AGAIN! To save their own miserable hides! 

(It is just as well, that they did not send a messenger to announce their intention to interfere this time. The way that he feels right now, he reckons he could have triggered a regeneration in the Meddler they would have sent just by glaring at him.)

-

Lytton had been working against the Cybermen, not for them. This makes the horror he feels at seeing Lytton half-converted (mostly-converted, almost-entirely-converted, but, no, no, he is The Doctor, and he can save the man, he CAN) even worse.

A Cyberman appears. He subtly arms Lytton and turns his back on the shell of the man, knowing that Lytton could easily kill him if he chooses. But What-Was-Lytton viciously attacks the Cyberman, even as he dives for the enemy’s discarded gun.

More Cybermen enter, looming over him. (Lytton, he had despised Lytton, and Lytton had disliked him also, but Lytton did not deserve such a fate – no man deserves to have their body and mind torn apart!) He scrambles for the weapon. (He knows precisely what sort of pain Lytton would have felt, and it is the High Council’s fault! What does he have to do to make the Time Lords leave him ALONE?!) He fires, and continues to, until the Cybermen lie strewn across the floor. (For a moment, he sees a chequered pattern beneath their lifeless bodies; the Cybermen threaten to kill The Master, so The Master kills them first.) He shudders.

He turns back for Lytton, but the man lies already dead. He did not see it happen, so he cannot know for sure whether Lytton died with the knowledge of who he had been, rather than what he had become.

-

He strides into the top secret briefing brazenly, with Peri trailing in his wake, and promptly knocks over the board detailing the attack positions that have been planned.

“Wrong!” He declares. “Utterly wrong. The Sontarans are masters of warfare and battle strategy. A strike force of this configuration would be decimated within moments of arriving. If you actually want to succeed in repelling this invasion, then you should do exactly as I say.”

The silence that follows this is short, before Peri interjects with a weary apology for his brash nature and clarifies that they were actually here to help.

The soldiers remain quiet, tension in their shoulders, looking towards their commanding officer for orders. The General in question – whose name is irrelevant – is bright red and appears to be on the verge of an apoplexy.

Sergeant Benton is fighting back his smile, and The Brigadier merely sighs in exasperation.

-

It is Benton who quite helpfully establishes the linear timeline by asking about Sarah and Harry.

“They’re still with me at the moment. The other me.” He continues to ignore the chill of the night air. (He acknowledges the sudden want for a scarf.) “But that was years ago. I’ve changed twice since then.”

“Will they be back soon?”

“When The Brigadier called for me.”

The Brigadier doesn’t turn around, but it is clear that he has heard all of this.

-

The soldiers of UNIT dislike him even more than Three, which is a rather impressive accomplishment even if he does say so himself, and he wonders whether this is why there had been a distinct lack of contempt towards Four, when he had returned. (He is surprised by the satisfaction he feels at having done them both a favour. He doesn’t know what to do with it.) They sneer at him openly and tighten their grips on their weapons behind his back, waiting (fervently) for an excuse. He is not intimidated by the hostility – his current body was made to (expect it and) endure it – and he had borne enough from them in the past to make it commonplace. He ignores those who glare hatefully; he doesn’t care what they think of him.

(He remembers Three; dinosaurs and treachery.) But if they attempt to arrest him (or hurt him or kill him) he will not hesitate to remind them that, yes, he IS an alien too, and that he can be just as dangerous as they fear.

Peri, Sergeant Benton, and The Brigadier stick close to him. (Hovering, almost.) He pretends not to notice. (Which reveals to them, of course, that he has.)

(He wonders whether they are protecting him, or protecting everyone else FROM him.)

-

Commander Storn is as arrogant as every other Sontaran leader he has met. They spend a whole ten minutes exchanging insults until Storn finally laughs at his audacity in coming alone. He bristles and squawks in response, pleased to know that UNIT have remained undetected where they lie in wait. When UNIT’s ambush of the Sontarans goes precisely to plan, Storn roars in outrage.

The Sontarans have all regrouped (retreated) to their ship and UNIT have them cordoned in. Storn snarls in vengeance, announcing that he will destroy the puny soldiers and take great pleasure in killing him. And then he declares that the Sontaran army will ravage the earth, imprisoning the humans for sport and selling the weaker stock for experimentation.

(Two is restrained, helpless, surrounded by Sontarans and science gone wrong. His genes are spliced and his nature augmented; a violation that will send ripples throughout his future.)

Fury boils his blood. Not HIS humans. He will NOT allow this! (He will NOT allow the Sontarans to subject anyone to experimentation AGAIN.)

-

The explosion of the Sontaran ship rains fire down on half the countryside.

-

The Brigadier is the one to find him and pull him free of the smouldering wreckage.

-

He allows Peri to tend to the burns on his arm, ignoring General Irrelevant-Name as the man berates him over the inability to salvage anything useful from the Sontaran ship. It is only when the General includes ‘prisoners’ in his assessment that he jolts upright.

“And just what would you have done with any alien prisoners?” He asks dangerously.

General Irrelevant freezes, caught out. Then he offers The Brigadier a cutting remark about properly managing his staff. 

He glares. “I don’t work for UNIT!” He shouts indignantly, then rounds on Peri, protesting that he needs to hold still. “Leave it! Am I a Doctor or not?!”

He wrenches away from her and storms from the room.

-

He kicks the door to the lab in. (His lab, the one The Brigadier always keeps for him.) The explosion still rings in his ears. (Two is restrained; Three is arrested; Four is regarded warily.) He wants to SCREAM. (They ALL want to SCREAM!)

He systematically destroys everything in the lab.

-

The Brigadier and Sergeant Benton come to see him and Peri off as they head for the TARDIS. (He doesn’t know how to feel about this. He had been prepared to slip out unnoticed, and he suspects Peri of interfering.)

Sergeant Benton grins. “Well so long, Doctor. I guess we’ll see you around. One of you, anyway.”

“Yes, yes. Goodbye, Benton. See you.”

Benton turns to Peri and he braces himself, turning to The Brigadier.

“The lab equipment was inferior. No scientist could work with it.” (It’s the closest he can get to an apology. He feels guilty about the fact that he does not feel ashamed of what The Brigadier will find when he goes in there.)

“I’ll have it replaced,” is the dry response. The man offers his hand. “Doctor.” They shake, but The Brigadier does not release his hand immediately. “Yes,” he says softly. “You are.”

His breath catches in his throat and he stares.

The Brigadier releases his hand and steps back, looking pleased to have rendered him speechless. But his eyes are serious as he says, “wonderful chaps, all of you.”

(He has never doubted that he is The Doctor, not even in the aftermath of his regeneration. But The Brigadier AGREES with him. The Brigadier knows ALL of him, and has acknowledged that he is The Doctor.)

(The opinion of the rest of the universe is thus rendered inconsequential.)

“Thank you.” He murmurs at last. Then turns on his heel and announces loudly that he is done with rectifying UNIT’s incompetence.

Three pairs of eyes are rolled and indulgent smiles are directed at his back.

-

The TARDIS is manoeuvred off-course by a time distortion of such precision that it can only be the work of a Time Lord. Or Daleks. Or perhaps even the third zoners – he has heard rumours that they are close to a breakthrough of some kind in their work. (He doesn’t know which of these options he prefers it to be.) Either way, he must investigate.

-

He wakes, bound on an operating table. (Panic squeezes the air from his lungs, and the cry of ‘Jamie’ doesn’t make it past his lips. But he is not Two; he is Six.) He turns his head and sees a woman of high refinement, cold, yet who hungers for glory. (It is not the woman he expects – the scientist, not the subject.)

“Well, well, well. The Rani.”

(He has not seen her for lifetimes spanning an age. This is unsurprising; given that the last time they met he may have ‘accidently’ upset a vital experiment of hers and set her research back by about a hundred years or so. He still thinks she overreacted to the situation.) 

“You were expecting to see The Master?” He nonchalantly informs her of the rather fatal outcome that had befallen the man when they had last met. “He’s very much alive and he wants vengeance.” (Alive? ALIVE? He is halfway through plotting the retribution he will subject the man to for making Five so distressed over NOTHING before he realises what he is doing. Then he cannot work out who he is most irritated with; himself, Five, The Master or The Rani.) The Rani continues in the same breath. “Curse the pair of you.”

He cannot help but be reminded of the Academy. “Well, since we’re insulting each other, I can’t say I care much for your taste in clothes; doesn’t do a thing for you.”

She ‘hmms’ in a rather neutral tone. “Your regeneration’s not too attractive either.” 

Hmph! (He wonders whether she is still offended about his rejection of her all those years ago. She had – very, very EARLY into their acquaintance – harboured a small attraction to him – though she had always insisted since it was a mere lapse in judgement – and he had been forced to, rather awkwardly, communicate his complete lack of interest in her. Still, she had gotten over it almost immediately. In fact, later that same term, she had been ‘dabbling’ with The War Chief; he remembers the impressive scandal they caused by being caught misusing one of the professor’s restricted labs.) Each to their own. 

Then she adds, snidely, “at least I can change my appearance. You’re stuck with what you’ve got.”

Like The Master and Romana, The Rani is quite skilled in selecting the physicality of her new bodies. She has long conducted extensive research on regeneration, both before and after she left Gallifrey. The High Council treat her in the same manner as they do the other renegades: disassociate with her entirely, until they want something from her. In The Rani’s case, the Council always appropriate some of her work or materials. (He remembers Two being turned inside out, fractured and forced to regenerate in the wake of a trial.) He wonders whether she knows what use they have put her work to in the past.

He is only mildly resigned to realise that it wasn’t HER, diverting the TARDIS earlier to get his attention. “Well, you had me fooled, if that’s any consolation.”

“It isn’t.”

Slighted by her indifference to his concession, he spitefully works out her entire plan in a matter of moments.

Her eyes narrow dangerously while her lips curl with respect. “I begin to understand why The Master finds you such a menace.” This is the point where he half-heartedly demands to be released. “And have you two stop my work?” (He thinks of the lab their class was held in and the childish antics of everyone trying to ruin one another’s time experiments. He remembers – though he tries not too – that he and The Master had always been on the same side against the other Time Lords, and that they only fought against each other when they were alone. That was ever such a long time ago now.) 

The Rani makes a simple speech about human beings being nothing but carnivores, hunting the other animals of the planet for sport, breeding them for the slaughterhouse. (He ignores the truth in this, though it reminds him of The War Chief. He wonders idly when the two of them last did business together.)

She gives instructions to her slave. “If he moves, kill him.” She pauses. “No. Kill this one,” she gestures to the unconscious human on the other table. “Touché, Doctor.” 

Curse her for being such a brilliant strategist.

Things become decidedly more complicated when she returns with The Master, who insults and threatens him in the traditional manner.

(He feels…conflicted, about the man not being burnt and crispy, though it is more to do with Five’s thoughts on the matter rather than The Master himself. He is relieved on Five’s behalf, and he’s not sure how he feels about THAT. He had thought that he and Five were going to have a Two-and-Three sort of relationship. And yet…and yet…Five had cared for him, and…and YES, he will admit he cares for Five also. But now is not the time to be thinking about this!)

He and The Master banter, because they cannot help themselves. 

The Rani is not impressed with either of them. “Oh, do stop squabbling and get on with it.”

(He thinks of the three children that they had been, many years and many lives ago, and the accidents that were never really accidents; the more that their lives – and faces – seem to change, there is more that remains constant.)

The Master still doesn’t make any move to kill him (even though he should: he left the man to burn), content at this point merely to have him helpless and infuriated. (He doesn’t stop to wonder why The Master deigned to hijack him into this situation in the first place.)

And infuriated he is, yes. But already his anger has begun to rise inside him. He does not care if it is the two of them against him; he is The Doctor! He CAN and WILL defeat them!

He knows it should not take much to turn them against each other. The Rani and The Master always play a separate game, even when they fall upon the same side. Unsettling their perceptions of the power balance between them usually used to help start things – so he calls The Master a ‘Prince’ to The Rani’s ‘Queen.’

(He and The Master both have always considered The Rani a genius. They both also thought it was a shame that they more often than not found her intolerable too.)

The Master’s eyes glitter with enthusiasm at the challenge. “You are indeed a worthy opponent, Doctor.”

The Rani rolls her eyes and continues working, ignoring them both as she always used to. 

-

Peri’s first instinct is that The Master is responsible for the dead that lie around them, but the mark of The Rani is quite distinctive.

“Like many scientists, I’m afraid, The Rani simply sees us as walking heaps of chemicals.” 

Like many scientists, experimenting on test subjects, because their ambition is more important than injury caused to another. (This time, he cannot remember why this makes him think of Two. But it is enough to know that Two was wronged, and he is vexed on his other self’s behalf.)

-

He hasn’t seen The Rani’s TARDIS in centuries. The stately matron is as devoted to The Rani as his old girl is to him. Even so, when he tries his key, he is unsurprised that the door unlocks. The Rani’s TARDIS has always been rather indulgent of him.

But then, this is not surprising either, given that the first time he had set foot in this console room, he had been hauling a delirious Rani inside to protect her; she had been regenerating at the time.

He surveys the console for a while, thinking hard. (He cannot trust his temper in this body – especially not with his two old friends. There are centuries of hurt and betrayal and rage and death that lie between them all.) He must take precautions. (For the sake of whatever still exists of the children they all were once.) 

There is no protest or resistance when he makes slight adjustments to some of the navigational components.

-

He is offered a gun. He refuses. 

(If he has a weapon, he knows there is a high probability that he may shoot one of them…again.)

-

He knocks the tissue compressor from The Master’s hand and levels it at them both. “A characteristic you both share, underestimating your opponents.” Disdain drips from his tone.

It is not he that steps into The Rani’s trap and the poor human lad who does is turned into a tree.

He whirls around, wrath in his hearts. (A tool for murder in his hands.)

“No!” The Master, of course, knows this expression of his intimately. “An accident. It wasn’t intended for him.”

He rants, raves, his anger building force. (The compressor is a solid presence against his fingers.) The Rani doesn’t see the danger, yet. “Oh, stop being sentimental.”

His anger turns from hot to cold in an instant. The Rani had never cared for collateral damage. (He has ALWAYS suffered collateral damage.) “They should never have exiled you. They should’ve locked you in a padded cell.” This declaration makes her (and The Master) realise just how volatile – just how ANGRY – he is: they all know what the ‘justice’ of the High Council is worth. “Now, move. Before I forget my abhorrence of violence and use this.” Three pairs of eyes flicker towards the weapon.

(All Three of them know what the decision will be, if the choice is between the High Council and murder. He respects The Master and The Rani, even when he detests them. He has never respected The War Chief.)

The Rani moves first. He sends her down into the dell to save Peri. The Master watches.

“She can’t remember. She probably set them at random.”

“I doubt if The Rani ever did anything at random.”

“But if she has?”

He knows the man is testing him, trying to provoke him, and he allows it. (In this body, he CAN allow it.) “Then YOU’RE nominated as understudy. I should think you’d turn into a laburnum tree.” The golden chain tree. “The pods are poisonous.” Lethal if consumed in excess. (Maybe he should plant a tree in honour/commiseration of their relationship.)

The Master merely smirks. (Clearly, he is having the same thought.)

Once Peri is safe, he gives the two (other) renegades his ultimatum. “I want you off this planet before you commit any further atrocities.”

This dance between the three of them reminds him – strangely – of that business with The Rani’s experimentally augmented mice and the struggle to save the Lord President’s cat (and the Lord President too). That had been a disaster. The aftermath had been even worse. The Rani had been secretly branded for exile, to begin once her semester was completed (– typical Council bureaucracy); The Master had been offered the President’s official gratitude for single-handedly annihilating the mice, before being conscripted into a Session with The Psychiatrist (and wasn’t THAT a tale of its own); while HE was left with the blame and the consequences, and all because HE had fought to save the CAT. (He is ALWAYS left with the consequences. Especially those caused by the problems that others have wrought.)

More hapless humans begin to move towards the dell. The Rani and The Master mock his morality. (He is angry with them both, oh, so angry.) He hesitates. (He could stay with his – what are they, colleagues? – and let the humans die, but he won’t. He could save the humans, but let his friend-enemies go, but he can’t. Or…he could – shoot – them both, and then save the humans. He could –)

Peri takes the decision – and the compressor – out of his hands, with a firm declaration to use it if necessary. All three Time Lords stand in her presence, momentarily impressed with her nerve and resolve.

He hesitates a moment more, then leans in to whisper in Peri’s ear as The Rani watches suspiciously. He collides not-so-accidently with The Master and they glare at each other. Then he leaves.

(Imbecile. Of course he knows that The Master will try to hypnotise Peri, so he warns her.)

(Imbecile. Of course he knows that The Rani will ridicule him for wasting valuable potential advice on a superficial warning, which is precisely why he does it.)

(Imbeciles. He nicks The Rani’s brain fluid from The Master; neither of them can achieve their goals without it.)

-

The Master’s response to realising he had been outwitted is predictable.

“Typical. He’s decided to stand and fight. Why couldn’t he just leave?!”

(He MUST make them LEAVE! Do they still not understand what he could do to them, if he loses his temper? What he had already contemplated doing?)

But (thankfully) he has already taken precautions. 

He realises suddenly that The Master is wonderfully, magnificently predictable. So he purposefully throws himself in the line of fire and the man (quite reliably) fires at him. Misses. The beam sends the unstable mine into collapse, forcing The Master and The Rani to retreat into her TARDIS, as anticipated.

He rather regrets that he is going to miss the argument that occurs when they realise that he has pre-programmed them on a nice little trip to the outer reaches of the universe. Without his help, it will take them both ages to rectify the faults. The Rani’s TARDIS has always liked him, after all.

-

He stands in front of the mirror, surveying his reflection. He is The Doctor. He thinks of the others who have come before. One, Two, Three, Four, and Five: he does not know (or remember clearly) what any of them thought of him. He does not NEED them to like him (though he suspects that Five obviously did, as Five had liked them ALL, and perhaps Two – he knows that Jamie had seen The Jacket – may come to like him in the future that is past); he does not need their approval.

But he still cares for them all, in his own way, even if he cannot express it in a manner quite like any he has been able to before.

He touches a finger to the cat pin on his lapel, thinking. 

All of his other selves had suffered greatly at the hands of evil. (Particularly when the High Council and the Time Lords were involved.) They had all tolerated what they were dealt, endured the horrors and pains inflicted on them, unable to right the wrongs of their own fates. And he cannot change anything that happened to them, to him. 

But…he can, perhaps, seek out the justice that his other selves were all denied. They may never truly know him; they may not like him or approve of him. But he will continue his vendetta against evil for ALL of them.

(After all, he seems to have been defending his other selves for quite some time already. It would only be fair to openly acknowledge that, since he intends to continue to do so.)

And there is plenty of injustices that need addressing, after Six lifetimes.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And *exhale*
> 
> Eagle-eyed readers may have wondered what had happened to Five’s Androgum-ripple. Hopefully you found the wait worth it.
> 
> “A leaf is unable to absorb green visible light and so it reflects it back into the environment and eventually into our eyes. Your brain interprets that as the leaf being green, but in reality the green light is just bouncing off the leaf. So, in a sense, the leaf is every colour in the world except green.” – A direct quote from an episode of Brain Games on the National Geographic Channel. Talk about mind-blowing!
> 
> The Sontaran Commander Storn was invented by me.
> 
> ‘The Mark of The Rani.’ If you have not watched it, I recommend! The play off between The Master and The Rani is so glorious; I was really annoyed that The Doctor wasn’t present for most of it. I wanted to use more of their stuff.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The War Games; The Three Doctors; Planet of the Spiders; Genesis of the Daleks; Logopolis; Earthshock; Arc of Infinity; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); Resurrection of the Daleks; Planet of Fire; The Twin Dilemma; Attack of The Cybermen; The Mark of The Rani; The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	20. The Two Doctors (Six)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember way back when The Doctor was Two?
> 
> -

-20-

-

In an effort to manage his volatile temperament he attempts activities that are reported to be ‘relaxing’ – but given that his sources of information regarding examples of this were old colleagues at UNIT, he is not quite sure how reliable or genuine the advice had been at the time.

His current foray is fishing. He supposes that it is therapeutic in the sense that all of his frustration is merely focused on the fish that refuse to take the bait and bite. Of course, once he catches the fish, he’s not entirely sure what to do with it. (What can he do to those who are caught by his anger when he loses his temper?) He throws the fish back.

He watches the ripples that spread across the surface of the water with a sudden disquiet. (Why does he find them so disturbing?) He immediately declares they must head back to the TARDIS. The edgy sense of foreboding remains, even within the safety of her walls.

“I think I’ve been overdoing things. I haven’t felt at all myself lately.”

“I don’t know which IS yourself.”

“Exactly.” (So which self does this unease come from then?) “This – re…generation…”

Time ripples squeeze him painfully – in the past. And the memories from his past – occurring NOW – begin to bleed through.

(His past self is shrieking in anguish, throwing his mind out in desperation, searching for someone familiar as he soundlessly pleads for help. The time ripples have carried his call across time rather than space. He senses the mind of this other self fleetingly brushing against his own; he reaches back instinctively but this additional disturbance – the almost conscious decision on his part to break the Rules – is too much for his past self.)

He collapses. (His past self collapses into oblivion.) He chokes on the taste of siralanomode.

Peri hovers anxiously. Still shaken by his fear (past and present), he snaps at her and then he pauses. “What happened?” He can’t remember. “I felt a weakness and then I was in another place.” But he doesn’t remember… (and that can only mean one thing.)

Peri offers him celery. Is that what he needs; celery? “Yes. And the tensile strength of…jelly babies. But I…” (There were numbers and scarves, and before that there had been silence, in a lab that was and always will be his. But before that…) “I had a clarinet. Or was it a flute?” Not being able to correctly identify the instrument irks him. (But the accusation – “just because you’re not musical” – was not levelled at HIM.) “A recorder!”

(Two, he realises. And then he forgets.)

Impressions from the past linger in his mind. (One of his past selves was/is in danger.) “I was being put to death!” The words make him panic; he is helpless. “They’re executing me!” No! (He was/is paralysed, unable to scream. He will be dissected cell by cell and gene by gene.) No… “It didn’t end like that. It’s not possible.” (He was spared that future, because The Brigadiers converged, allowing Five to live and become Six.) “I exist, I am here now, therefore I cannot have been killed then!” 

But…if the past changes, if he (his past self) IS killed and their death subsumes the present, then he (Six) exists as a temporal tautology; a time slip in the subconscious, existing now without the other who came before. But how long can his own existence be sustained this way?

(He thinks of The Watcher, existing without Four, both of them incomplete and waiting for the moment to be upon them. What would have happened, had they not been together when the moment came?)

Peri is growing concerned at his instability. “Perhaps you should see a doctor.”

(The implication that he isn’t one stings fiercely.) He looks at her sharply, but he retaliates with his tongue, and not his hands. (He will not hurt Peri, ‘Perpugilliam,’ Brown again.)

Her intention however, bears merit: the time ripples that had reached him were artificial in nature, created by fools who do not perceive the delicacies of Time the way that those with a natural affinity – such as the Time Lords – can. He does not dare approach the Time Lords (especially given the Rule breaking circumstances he has found himself in), but seeking assistance from another party with rudimentary knowledge of time travel would be the most efficient way to track the origin of the temporal disturbance.

“Dastari!” As he reads the name, he is filled with a sense of conviction. Joinson Dastari, the pioneer of genetic engineering. Dastari is an old friend, and his temporal work with the third zoners makes him an ideal candidate.

But when he inputs the coordinates, the TARDIS bristles.

He frowns at the console in consternation. What does she think she is not-doing? He HAS to go to the space centre and see Dastari. (He HAS to…his other self needs his help! He does not overly like them nor do they like him, but he DOES care and he WILL defend and protect them given any opportunity. And here is physical opportunity!) It’s for his own sake!

To his surprise, the moment he thinks of technically-not-himself, the TARDIS (grudgingly) takes flight.

-

They exit the TARDIS, to find themselves in a crude kitchen, tainted with decay and devastation. The smell of death hangs in the air and traces of the bloodshed cling to the surrounding fixtures. He takes in the sight, cautiously confused. (An impression flickers across his thoughts of what the room could be – had been?) There are fading resonances of time ripples in the air, dampening his concentration. But one thing is clear: the damage that has been wrought here goes beyond a simple battle. The destruction of the space station has been deliberate and malignant. 

“What kind of monster would want to stop the brilliant work that was being done here? Pure research for its own sake; it threatened no one!”

“It threatened the Time Lords.”

The monotone inflection of the computer sends chills down his spine. But when he demands to hear it again, the statement doesn’t change. (The Time Lords? The Time Lords…) The space station’s computer wants them to leave, but he refuses on principle to submit to bullying. Besides, he knows that it is important he remains, even if he cannot remember why.

He’s not even surprised when the computer responds to his defiance by trying to kill him. In fact, he finds that sort of thing rather routine by now. At least computers are always unoriginal.

-

They take refuge in Dastari’s office. He is aware, even before Peri points it out, that his reminiscing sounds like a eulogy. He is certain that his old friend is dead, as certain as if the man was killed right before him. Everyone who had been on the station is dead.

[There are three survivors who escape the massacre. One is a fighter who runs because that is what he was told to do, and retreats deep into the station out of sight. The others are Kartz and Reimer, who flee the station with mere fragments of their research. They barter passage with a time traveller on the black market and hide themselves in the fifty first century. There is enough temporal noise in that period to effectively conceal their presence until they have built up their work once again.]

He peruses Dastari’s journal, searching for answers. There is a fair amount of praise for the scientists Kartz and Reimer, and their work in time control. Apparently they had been close to a breakthrough; he had heard rumours of the sort regarding the third zoners, but he had thought they were just rumours. What sort of breakthrough could they possibly hope to achieve? They don’t have the instinct for Time, like his people do. But before he can ponder this, the last entry runs his blood cold.

“The Time Lords are demanding that Kartz and Reimer suspend their work, alleging their experiments are imperilling the continuum.” This statement may be true enough; the time ripples had been unstable (and promising) enough to have warranted the Council to send an emissary out. “I rejected the command.” (He can attest first hand – and second and third and fourth and fifth – about the perils of defying the High Council.) “Colleagues fear they may forcibly intervene.”

“So it WAS the Time Lords?”

No, it’s not possible. The High Council prefer to orchestrate complex webs of manipulation, would rather have the subject of their discontent bring about their own ruin as opposed to massacre on this scale. The Time Lords (excepting a handful of renegades) would never engage in such an open display of violence, particularly if it could be so obviously attributed to them. (The last time there had been unrestricted violence on Gallifrey, it had been during the War that ended the Dark Days.)

“Perhaps they felt that the end justified the means. Isn’t that always the excuse for something really bad?”

(Under threat from an energy drain, they had made the decision to break the First Rule. If the Council were capable of that…)

Then Peri suggests that someone is setting the Time Lords up. He STOPS for roughly five point eight seconds. Peri is an absolute GENIUS. The Time Lord’s involvement is so utterly obvious that it’s TOO obvious: things have clearly been constructed to appear this way and thus the High Council, with a reputation for strict neutrality, cannot possibly be involved.

He does not stop to consider who would benefit from driving a wedge between Gallifrey and the third zone governments.

-

[An anonymous party arranges the contact between the Sontaran commander and the head of the space station. There is a moment – when the emissary of the Time Lords is dispatched – that the plan almost fails: their hatred and fear of The Doctor is all consuming. But once The Doctor is removed from the station, the plan proceeds as anticipated: the Sontaran contingent slaughter all those on the space station, and then they in turn are…exterminated. With no survivors, the third zone governments will not know what transpired, only that it is far too hazardous to become involved in temporal matters. Without the resources of the third zoners, the Time Lords will remain isolated from intergalactic affairs…and no one else will be able to offer the Gallifreyans aid in the event of escalating conflicts on a higher temporal plane.]

-

He and Peri move into the bowels of the building. He knows it’s important for him to be down here, though he is unsure precisely why; he assumes that it’s merely the need to disarm the computer.

Peri hears a noise that worries her. He is prepared to write it off as her overactive imagination – he has an instinct for danger after all, and he hasn’t sensed anything wrong – and then he hears the noise too. 

A low growl. It sounds territorial, defensive, and fierce…but he does not believe that it is a threat. It feels…more protective than anything else.

He begins hacking into the computer system, ignoring Peri’s fretting. She offers to help him, but he is wary about the traps that will be coded into the programming. He is partway through bypassing a complex set of algorithms when he hears Peri calling him.

Then she screams.

He jerks, tripping the computer. The vorum gas that spews out of the jets tastes like siralanomode and his minds lurches into fogged memories.

(His body is limp and his mind hazy. There is warmth and light on the edges of his consciousness – physical sensations, not emotional ones. He can smell grass and stone. His body is being hauled roughly between his captors. Do his other selves know? Will any of them come? How can they, when it is forbidden? He feels inexplicitly bereft, craving the company of the two that he has met before, though he should not remember. He wants One to disapprove of him, he wants Three to be dismissive of him; if only because it will mean that they will be HERE with him.)

Peri pulls him back into consciousness and he follows her, preoccupied. He has been so busy worrying about the Time Lords and the Council, he had forgotten the reason he had come to the station in the first place. (How could he have forgotten about his other self?) This is not over yet.

He crouches beside the humanoid that attacked Peri. His hearts stop, then lurch.

“Jamie!” Jamie, Jamie, Jamie…hold on. “He should be with me!”

Peri is almost reluctant when she responds. “Not anymore.”

Oh. (Oh, but how he wishes otherwise.) No, wait, hold on. Where is Two then? Jamie and Two were inseparable. (One of his past selves was/is in danger. Was it Two?)

Jamie wakes and panics, Time rippling behind his eyes. He struggles with Jamie, trying to make him calm down. Their eyes meet for a moment and Jamie hesitates long enough for him to take advantage. 

Jamie’s sudden slump into unconsciousness alarms Peri. She is taken aback by his vehement response to her accusation that he would harm Jamie, and her expression becomes instantly apologetic. His eyes fall back onto the highlander’s face, drinking in the sight of him. “I was always rather fond of Jamie.”

Jamie stirs. “Doctor…”

He leans forward instantly. Peri hesitantly reminds him that Jamie isn’t talking to him. (He is unprepared for the deep sorrow of the truth of this.) He draws back, moves away. (Tries to distance himself. He is not Jamie’s Doctor anymore.)

“They killed The Doctor.”

He frowns, looking at his friend. Jamie’s conviction is obvious. (He remembers the mind slip in the TARDIS, his other self screaming in anguish, reaching out to him. Had Two been killed?) He moves back to Jamie’s side, deciding to try hypnotism. They had experimented with it once in good humour, and it might help clear the residual influence of the time ripples from Jamie’s mind. 

Jamie speaks slowly, telling them of the argument with Dastari about the Time Lords. (For a moment, he fears the Council’s involvement after all.) Then Jamie speaks of the knights. Sontarans, he realises, and he knows without a doubt that the Sontarans have Two.

He instructs Jamie to sleep. In an implicit show of trust, the highlander obeys instantly.

-

“Of course, I never for a moment thought it was the Time Lords.”

(Of course, he is an accomplished liar.)

-

[The High Council monitored the work of the third zoners very closely. Assured that such inferior, linear scientists would never be able to unlock the true secrets of Time, they were content to allow the experiments to continue. When the scientists involved in the project conjectured that they needed to experiment on the biological material of a Time Lord to achieve the breakthrough they desired, the High Council thought it convenient to encourage these delusions by selecting a renegade to act as their emissary. The decision of which renegade to send was made effortlessly.]

[It is no accident that the events transpire in The (Second) Doctor’s timeline shortly after he breaks The First Rule for the First Time, subjectively. After all, The Doctor cannot break the Rule if he is neutralised before the need arises, can he?]

-

He examines the computer banks for more information. A brief review of Kartz and Reimer’s work leaves him horrified at the implications. Their time experiments had produced ripples reaching up to point four on the Bocca scale! Such a disturbance of this level could in fact negate the death of one body – one of his past selves – and continue to sustain the others temporarily.

But only temporarily. 

The third zoners are – were – amateurs and their work lacks the substance needed to sustain a paradox. If Two is murdered the whole universe could collapse into nothingness, all of the corporeal matter destroyed. In linear terms, it would only take a few centuries for the damage to coalesce.

Peri laughs it off and he watches her move away with a sense of despondency. She doesn’t – cannot – comprehend the scale of Time. He cannot fault her for that; she is a linear being. (His thoughts flicker to The Master, The Rani. Romana.) The spike of loneliness in his chest is acidic – this body does not have the capacity to deal with it and he shoves it away. (He is not strong enough to bear it anymore.) 

He discovers the death simulator – displaying images of Peri, Dastari, himself (Two), and himself (Six). Interesting… Perhaps Two isn’t dead yet after all. (Two must be still alive! He can still save Two!) And what of Dastari?

It takes every fibre of concentration he possesses not to tense nervously when he hears his companions approaching. (An echo of jealously and hurt lingers beneath his skin; Peri preferred Five, his other selves all preferred Five.) He prepares himself for the inevitable rejection.

“He’s not The Doctor I know.”

“I am so, Jamie McCrimmon.” He does his best to sound level, not defensive (and not imploring). Jamie searches his eyes and he allows the scrutiny, reaching out to his friend in the spirit of comradery that they had shared – that they surely STILL share. “I was him, he will be me.”

Jamie pauses a moment. Then he says, “who will I be?”

He flashes a smile at Jamie. It’s brief, but it speaks volumes. (Jamie understands, knows that he is worried about not being accepted as The Doctor; and he knows that Jamie is worried that regeneration may have changed their friendship, that Six feels differently to Two. His smile is grateful, and a clear sign that Jamie has nothing to worry about.) He then shows them both the simulator, standing beside Jamie like he used to as he explains his theory.

“So you don’t think The Doctor’s dead? I mean, my Doctor?”

The clarification makes him grin. (The ‘other Doctor’ indicates the belief that HE is also The Doctor!) “No, I don’t, Jamie.” 

Two has been kidnapped – and Dastari must have been too. He knows (probably because he remembers) that Dastari’s knowledge will be needed to investigate whether the secrets to the symbiotic nature of time travel lies in the Time Lord’s genealogy. But the universe is a very big place. Two could be anywhere. For Two’s sake (and the sake of all the other selves that exist between them), he must locate him – fast.

But how can he find him in time?

He had brushed minds with Two earlier, caught up in the sensation of projected memories. It may be possible to reach his other self on the astral plane, using telepathy, despite their physical separation. With the time ripples connecting them it should be theoretically possible to reach BACK through their memories.

(There will be no danger to Two: memories do not travel backwards; so Two will not remember. And there is no point in worrying about HIMself, since he has already broken the Rules anyway.)

He sinks into his mind, calling for his other self.

(Sun and grass give way to a darkened cellar. The tang of scientific equipment assaults his senses and he perceives the shadows of a geneticist and an augmented subject. On an operating table and raw with betrayal, he considers The Rani, but he is flanked Sontarans; she has never worked with them, not even to experiment on. She always kills them outright instead.) Where is he? (He does not know where he is…but he stirs towards wakefulness, feeling as though someone important is calling him.)

For a moment their minds meet. (Jamie…) “Jamie!” But Two does not have the reserves to reach any further, and falls back into his drugged stupor. He fumbles and loses the sense of his past self. He is about to despair, when he has an epiphany. He knows that Two will be frantic with worry about Jamie, and Two has good reason to fear that Jamie may have been killed. He concentrates on that anxiety long past. He thinks of a broken TARDIS and soldiers, of Three and Jo – a future without Jamie.

(The woman’s voice is cold and indifferent, her tone callous. “Your companion will be long since dead.”) And then…bo-ing. 

Bells!

Even though he still cannot remember precisely where they need to go, the bells are enough for him to start with.

-

He leads Jamie down the corridors of the TARDIS, Peri having remained in the console room to give them some space. They talk briefly about the attack on the space station, and he speculates on the temporal influences that would have been afflicting Jamie for the twelve days he was exposed. (He is glad that it wasn’t for any longer than that.) Thankfully, being a time traveller, Jamie would have been shielded from the worst of the degrading currents.

“I tried apologising to Peri.” Jamie admits. “She wouldn’t have it, kept saying it’s not my fault. But I could’ve hurt her!”

“It would take more than that to faze Peri.” He remembers his early moments post-regeneration. “And she’s forgiving. Admirably so. But don’t tell her I said so, or I’ll feel compelled to point out how you felt it necessary to dramatically attack her in an effort to protect me.”

“I did not!” But Jamie is grinning.

“Of course you did. You recognised me on some level, or you would have attacked me first.” He struggles to keep his expression serious. “Peri will undoubtedly think it was ‘sweet’ of you.”

Jamie shoves him good naturedly. They are both surprised when he staggers into the wall. He is quick to soothe Jamie’s alarm, even as he squeezes his eyes shut. (Now that he is consciously aware of the shifting of his memories, it has begun to hurt with a vengeance. Unlike the constant confusion and weakness that Five had suffered the last time, his pain is rising and falling like great waves striking against a stone; unpredictable and short lived.) When the agony passes he waves Jamie off. “I’m fine, we’re both fine.”

Jamie pauses. “Does it hurt, Doctor?”

He intends to lie, right up to the point where the truth falls out of his mouth instead. Then he shakes his head and continues down the corridor. Jamie follows, watching him closely.

“I should be used to it by now,” he muses, “but I suppose it doesn’t really work like that.” He throws open the door. “Here’s the blue washroom! I knew it still down here somewhere. Leads straight to the wardrobe, or it did anyway.”

“Doctor…”

He cannot ignore that tone. “I’m all right Jamie, I promise. I need sleep, and I’ll have plenty of it, once we get me out of danger. Sleep will help.”

Jamie nods, satisfied, and then levels him with a stern look. “Last time we get involved with the Time Lords, eh?”

For a hearts-stopping second he is stricken with horror and guilt. (The War Chief, his trial, his punishment. Jamie and Zoe, their memories taken and their timelines locked.) “The Time Lords always ruin everything, Jamie.” (Words tremble on his tongue, warnings and advice that he could give.) “I…” (He wants to say something, to say anything! But he can’t, he knows he can’t.) “The Time Lords…don’t like me very much. I would die if I had to ask them for help.”

Despite his attempt at humour, Jamie goes very still. (He remembers wondering at the time how much Jamie knew and now understands that Jamie had been aware his trial would end in execution.)

“Enough of this nonsense though.” He nudges Jamie through the doorway. “Go on, wash, change. We have a Doctor to rescue, remember.”

“I remember.” Jamie smiles. “I’m not likely to forget you in a hurry, Doctor.”

As he heads back down the corridor towards the console room, he thinks that Two has every right to hate him after this. And the only thing he can do about it is to save his self.

-

Bo-ing, bo-ing, bo-ing…the cathedral bells in…Seville! Two is in Seville! Technically, Two is about three miles out of Seville, judging from the quality of sound. (And he trusts his past self’s knowledge of auditory resonance completely.)

Jamie emerges in full Scottish garb, smiling like a sentimental fool. He is immediately driven to start bantering at the mere sight of him. (It has nothing to do with wanting to replace the ice nestled in his chest with warmth.) Jamie grins playfully, preparing to retaliate, but Peri interjects. Her presence reminds him that…well. He shouldn’t be standing here, enjoying Jamie’s company while Two despairs in a dungeon.

The TARDIS is as unimpressed by these new co-ordinates as she was by the previous ones; he wants her to land in sync with the bells ringing in his – Two’s – fragmented memories. (This time, he isn’t exasperated with her. He knows that she is fretting about him, about both of him and their Rule breaking.) The whole console room shudders in protest.

Jamie gets to his feet and approaches the console. “MY Doctor wouldn’t have done that!”

(Jealously wraps around his lungs, though he knows it shouldn’t. Envy and resentment stab through each of his hearts. These emotions are able to be tangled into his anger too easily, and as a result, he cannot regulate them very well either.) “YOUR Doctor –” He slaps at Jamie’s hand as he waspishly insults Two. Jamie eyes him shrewdly. “If anything happens to my-self as a result, I will never forgive him-self!”

(He thinks, quite suddenly, of Three and sobers. No, no he is not angry with Two. He is frustrated with his own self. He has learnt Three’s lessons very well indeed, and he will not turn his temper on Two. But the ones who are responsible for Two’s suffering? Perhaps he shall remain angry with them.)

-

He freezes before exiting the TARDIS. “I can’t wear my Jacket out there!”

“Why not?” Jamie frowns. “What’s wrong with it?” He shrugs at Peri as she rolls her eyes.

He shucks his jacket off and flings it at the console as he races passed. (“At least I’m not colour blind,” but it had not been The Jacket. Only Jamie had seen The Jacket.) “Where’s my waistcoat?!”

-

He is accosted by humans the moment he steps out of the TARDIS, believing him to be a plain clothes police officer. (It must be his Police Box that gives this impression.) They speak of a ‘plane crash’ and two ‘survivors,’ carrying a third between them, heading towards a house nearby.

This is why he loves humans: always in the right place at the right time.

-

He tells the others to remain out of sight while he has a preliminary scout around the house. It does not appear familiar, but that may only indicate that Two had not seen enough of the outside to recall. After four regenerations, he cannot rely on their memories, the inconsistency wrought with Rule breaking notwithstanding.

He hears a male voice from inside the house, speaking of food. It disturbs him on an instinctual level and prompts an urgent NEED to find Jamie immediately. (This Androgum shows an instant interest in Jamie.) Fortunately he is not discovered, and he returns to where the others lie in wait. He refrains from seizing Jamie and checking him over, choosing to sit across from him instead, just out of arms reach. The gesture does not go unnoticed by Jamie, but he doesn’t comment on it.

When he describes the woman he had seen, Jamie reveals that she had been at the space station: a ‘Hungryman’ that Dastari had turned into a genius.

“What a stupid thing to do!”

Jamie grins. “Aye, that’s what The Doctor said!”

(“You can’t change nature!”) He is filled with a sense of righteous triumph at the thought that the two of him agree.

The Androgum nature is driven by self-gratifying hunger; the urge to eat, to fight, to kill. Regardless of what intelligence this woman may now possess, the potency of her blood instincts cannot be denied.

He instructs Peri to cause a distraction while he and Jamie search for his other self. He cannot help that he longs for Jamie’s company, and he is determined to make the most of it. (No matter how painful it will be later, when they are forced to separate back into their own time streams. Some things are worth heartache.)

-

As they make their way into the passage that Anita had shown them, he is struck with a wave of vertigo and he falters, bracing himself until it passes. (The Sontaran Commander, angered by his insolence, strikes him: this is a memory, not transference. It is not happening now, it has already happened, which means they are running out of time. His captors did not take long to return and the preparations for the operation may already be underway.) Jamie has a steadying hand on his arm, murmuring encouragements until he straightens. He nods briskly – ‘I’m alright’ – and they continue on. He ignores the slight tremor in his limbs. He MUST find Two.

(He will not allow Two to continue to believe he has been abandoned.)

He could almost cry with gratitude when Jamie teases him about falling down the ladder. His dear friend Jamie, still treating him in the same manner whether he is Two or Six. He regrets that he is not as capable – in this body – at expressing sentiment because if he was, he would seize Jamie in a hug.

He decides instead that he will leave that to his other self. Because he WILL rescue Two.

-

They sneak into the cellar and he sees his other self immediately. (He will deny that his knees buckle in relief.) Dastari and the Androgum wheel Two out in a wheelchair – 

(Remembering is a sharp pain that slices across his mind. Dastari expresses regret, but is still going to destroy him. Shockeye of the Quancing Grig.)

He pulls Jamie back as the highlander makes to follow them. (He will ensure that he keeps Jamie safe from that Androgum.) He does not want Jamie near that Androgum! He moves to examine the Kartz-Reimer Time Module instead, concealing his disdain for its shoddiness. He invents a cascade of techno-babble (borrowing one of Three’s most grating ‘lecture mode’ tones) until he is interrupted by the Sontarans.

It is surprisingly easy to remember how irritating he had found Commander Stike the first time around. This belief is heightened when Stike orders him into the Time Module. “Or your comrade dies!”

Allowing Stike to see his fear for Jamie’s life, he complies. Stike will respond to such a gesture in the typical Sontaran manner; scorn for the exposure of a weakness. Sure enough, Stike sneers arrogantly and threatens to kill Jamie again, out of sheer vindictiveness. He stalls, giving Jamie the opportunity to reach for his knife.

Stike screams in fury as the knife is driven into his leg. He leaps forward, pulling Jamie free and shouts for his friend to run as they make their escape.

-

They double back, re-entering the house. He is overwhelmed by a sudden clarity; he knows these halls, these rooms. His other self must be nearby!

“Doctor!”

He only realises that Jamie had not been addressing him, when he hears the call of “Jamie!” in response. He turns, sees Jamie move into a room and follows him. When he sees his other self relief floods his veins. (He does not know whether it is Two’s relief at seeing Jamie, or his own at seeing Two, but it hardly matters which. Jamie is alive. And Two is SAFE.) Two’s eyes move from Jamie and they examine each other carefully.

“Snap.” They say together.

“I’ve come a long way for you.” He says, with an air that implies the whole mess is a great bother. 

“Naturally,” his other self replies just as airily, as if there had never been any doubt. “Don’t expect any thanks.”

(He has set the tone for their association: he came when his other self called for help, but he may never be able to admit in words how much he cares.)

As he and Jamie move to free his other self, they hear someone approaching, and they instead roll him out of the room into the hall. It is clear they do not have time to affect an escape. 

“Extemporise!” He hisses. It is an instruction, but it is also a message. ‘Extemporise’ has musical connotations. (Shortly after Two had met Three for the first time, Three had insulted Two’s music. He wants Two to understand, immediately, that he has nothing but respect for his musical ability.) His other self feigns unconsciousness while he and Jamie flee upstairs to hide. Dastari and Chessene move towards Two.

Shockeye enters carrying Peri over his shoulder, with a triumphant declaration of “supper.” He pulls Jamie back because Chessene is now telling Dastari about her contingency plan. She wants to turn Two into her consort; augment him into an Androgum by blood and instinct, while retaining his knowledge of Time.

He is disgusted by this notion. (It disturbs him, filling him with a sense of unease that is not just his own; Three is sick, Four is queasy, and Five is stunned.) Surely Dastari would never – 

Dastari is AGREEING with her plan?!?!

-

Two is taken back down to the cellars. Forced to decide between his other self and Peri, he heads for the kitchens, knowing that Two anticipates them to rescue her. As the three of them flee from house, his legs collapse beneath him. (Two is being operated on – he can almost feel the augmentations as they occur, the foreign genetic material being implanted within him. The pain of the changes is on par with dying.) Jamie and Peri haul him up between them and drag him along until he finds his own feet again.

Once clear of the courtyard, they take cover. He grows frustrated at being forced to leave his other self behind. Why is it taking Stike so long to act? He reveals to the others how he had tricked Stike in the cellar, feeding him false information. Peri is confused, naturally as she hadn’t been there, but Jamie’s eyes glow as he touches the place where his knife had been, impressed.

-

(He is hungry as Two wakes. He is an Androgum, and is driven by hunger.)

-

They catch sight of Two and Shockeye leaving. “Now where are they going?” (He doesn’t remember.) He attempts to straighten out his memories, even though he knows it will do no good. They chase after the pair of them. Shockeye incapacitates the driver as Two commandeers a vehicle. (He watches as Two does not give it a second thought and recalls the grief that Two suffered over it.)

He does not know how long he has until the effect reaches him. (He knows it WILL, and he and Two are not the only selves who will suffer as a result of the Androgum augmentations.) The changes have already begun rippling up along their time stream.

-

On the streets of Seville they continue to search. He follows blind instinct (but he will not be able to keep trusting his instincts for much longer). “It IS me we’re following.” He must hope that he and Two are alike enough that he will be able to locate him quickly.

“Can’t you remember?” Peri asks.

“No!” He dares not even try. He knows, courtesy of Two himself, how dangerous attempting to remember can be.

Jamie, of course, knows this too because Two had tried to explain it to him after the incident with Omega. So the highlander distracts him, redirecting his focus onto how alike he and Two are. It almost works.

Then Peri asks the question he has been dreading. “But how can two of you be together at the same point in space and time?”

He does not want to go into this now, so he gives the only answer he can. “When you travel around as much as I do, it’s almost inevitable that you’ll run into yourself at some point!” It is far simpler to laugh it off, rather than acknowledge the reality of their trauma.

-

He spots a cat.

(He is an Androgum, and is driven by hunger. The urge to eat is blood instinct.)

He crouches and beckons the animal. (He can taste gallus gallus domesticus; Bos Taurus; Meleagris; bovine; sus domesticus.) Small mammals are best baked.

His awareness returns slowly. (The ripple disperses, taking the hunger for animal flesh with it.)

“You’re not an Androgum, you’re a Time Lord!” Jamie stabs his finger at his chest. “Pull yourself together, Doctor!”

Water, he needs water. (Benton brings him water and The Brigadier holds him still.) He reaches for both Peri and Jamie, shaking the sensation off.

-

He finds Oscar, fatally wounded. (This is his fault! He led Shockeye here, too vulnerable to discern the danger. It’s HIS fault, for not finding himself in time to prevent this.)

He is reassured to see that the transfusion has failed and his other self’s body has now rejected the Androgum genetic material. (Two is safe.) He is exceedingly gentle as he pulls Two upright, scrutinising him intently to be sure he is unharmed. Once convinced, he starts shouting loudly in a brash manner and hauls Two bodily from the restaurant onto the streets outside.

He does not mean to lash out like a mere child and begin to bicker with this other version of himself, but he is just so angry. (Hurt, guilt and pain; he struggles against the echoes of his memories. And he’s been so worried, so frantic, does Two not know what he has suffered, stirring himself into a panic over his well-being?) He frowns sternly, until he realises that his expression is parroting one that The Brigadier had worn often. This only adds to his consternation. (Why is HE suddenly the responsible one?!)

Peri shouts at them both to stop, rolling her eyes and turning to lead the way. But then they are all fronted by Dastari and Chessene again. With their arms raised, they are marched back down one of the side streets.

-

He feels no remorse in hearing that Stike had been killed. Stike had threatened to kill Jamie (had also threatened to kill Two) and his current body can be vindictive when he chooses.

-

They are all led back down into the cellar.

He tells Chessene of his sabotage of the Time Module, wielding his words in a controlled and civilised manner. His detached display of calm furthers her hatred for him, her Androgum nature interpreting his superiority as a challenge to her own power. She is quick to threaten Peri in retaliation and then demands that Dastari chains them all up. He catches Two’s eye. At least this will buy them all some time.

Shockeye is complaining to Chessene that he still desires to cook a human beast. Chessene’s smile is full of dark vengeance. “Take the one in the skirt. He is the youngest of the jacks.” He and Two are united in their horror.

“No! and “Jamie!” are shouted in anguish as the highlander is dragged away by the more powerful Androgum. Chessene follows Shockeye out. Dastari stands before them for a moment longer, dangling the keys as he gives them both an inscrutable look and drops the keys onto the table, and leaves without a backward glance.

Two takes a brief moment to express appreciation of his strategy to further sabotage the Time Module. “You’re almost as clever as I am.” His chest swells with pride. (Perhaps Two is fond of him after all. Perhaps he is not as disliked as he has always thought.) He will take this moment of understanding, if nothing else.

Two offers encouragement as they manage to manoeuvre around the wheelchair to assist them in securing the keys from the table. Upon success, Two is swift to congratulate him. It makes him feel like a child who had wanted to please his senior…but there may be more truth in this than he dares admit.

He manages to free himself, and starts on Two’s restraints when they hear Jamie’s scream cut through the air. He startles with panic and almost takes off before Two reminds him to leave them the keys. He races up the stairs, hearts pounding, and moves out of sight. He listens to the argument in the kitchens – his escape has been discovered. Chessene is vehement in calling for his death, and her primal rage stirs something inside him.

(He is an Androgum, and is driven by hunger. The urge to fight is blood instinct.)

He seizes a knife and begins to cut his blood-brother free. (He seizes the knife and lunges for the monster that attacked his blood-sister.) Once his blood-brother is safe, he will hunt down the monster responsible and gut him. But before he can sever all of the bindings, the Hungryman returns, tearing the weapon away from him. He draws back, circling warily. He needs his knife! He wants to drive his knife at the Hungryman (neatly severing the beast’s major artery) in defence of his blood-brother.

There is a whirl of silver and he strangles a snarl at the flash of pain across his thigh. (The time ripple relinquishes its influence.) He ignores the stickiness of the blood beneath his fingers (ignores the stickiness of the almost-raw flesh in his mouth, the stains of blood on his fingertips), and runs. He knows that (Leela was safe) Jamie will be safe; Shockeye will give chase after him.

An Androgum cannot resist the scent of blood.

-

He finds Oscar’s cyanide. He collapses beside it and stares for a moment. 

(“He’s been…mothballed.”)

He curses himself, because he has no choice.

He tells himself, as he prepares the cyanide, that even though he has no choice, he is still making the decision as unbiasedly as possible. He is not (currently) angry, he is not (currently) afflicted by Androgum influences, and he is not (currently) thinking about the horrifying fate that had almost befallen Peri and Jamie. Shockeye is going to kill him, unless he kills the Androgum first.

(He is an Androgum, and is driven by hunger. The urge to kill is blood instinct.)

The beast that had threatened his blood-brother and blood-sister (and caused his other-blood-self grief) comes into view. He seizes the Hungryman, applying the poisonous chemical in the act of smothering the struggling savage. (The Master-of-Death is shouting at him, but he does not hear the words; he can hear nothing over the blood roaring in his ears.) He does not release the Hungryman until he is satisfied that the beast has been killed.

He is left more resigned than dismayed as the time ripple dissipates.

-

He limps back to the house, slowly. His head aching and his hearts heavy, he bears the burdens of the memories of his other selves.

-

By the time he has re-joined the others in the cellar, Dastari and Chessene are also dead. (His only concession to mourning his old friend is to be grateful that he had encountered The Rani prior to this incident. If it had been otherwise, with the memories of betrayal and experimentation in the name of scientific progress wholly present in his mind, he would surely have killed her. And he is glad he did not.) Jamie speculates about Shockeye’s whereabouts. He is truthful (because he had been), though reluctant. He does not look at Two, but neither does he blame him for being the conduit of knowledge.

Instead he teases Two. All of his selves have always done their best to part amicably. (He will not let Two realise how much he has been hurting. Two had borne enough pain during these encounters, and he will not add to it.) He allows Two his moment of privilege, to have the opportunity to revel in being The Doctor that the other defers to.

The earlier TARDIS arrives for Two and Jamie. (He wonders suddenly where she had been, after vanishing from the station.) He watches his other self and Jamie with longing as they exchange ‘after yous,’ Two relenting to Jamie, and he is struck by another bout of guilt. (He can’t do anything to prevent the future that awaits Two and Jamie. And he hates himself for it.)

Jamie turns to Peri to say goodbye, and leans forward to kiss her cheek. Peri is perplexed, and both Doctors huff in surprise. Jamie flashes a grin at both of them, before addressing him. “Doctor.” He does not make any move to approach him; Jamie understands, and does not want to make things any harder than they have to be.

“Jamie.” He does not approach Jamie either. He is worried that if he does he will grab Jamie and refuse to let him go. “Keep an eye on the old gentlemen will you?” Jamie nods behind Two’s back.

Two draws himself up haughtily. “Do try to keep out of my way in future and in past, there’s a good fellow.” He retorts, and then mellows. “The time continuum should be big enough for the both of us…just!”

Two meets his gaze one last time, and he understands. ‘Both of us’ translates to ‘all of us.’ They cannot keep meeting themselves.

He wonders abruptly whether he ever will again.

-

Now that Two is gone, he can fulfil his quota of complaining about how he and his other selves dislike each other so much. He had restrained himself for the most part earlier, not wanting Two to think he was serious.

He and Peri exchange ‘after yous’ as they leave the house and he looks suspicious over his shoulder, still thinking of Two. He insists, rather than relenting to Peri.

And then he swears on a vegetarian diet. (The thought of meat still makes his skin crawl.)

-

As they walk back to their TARDIS, Peri asks about Jamie.

(He does not want to think about how much he misses the highlander already. Jamie is no longer his to miss!)

His response is halted, because he does not want to reveal to Peri the extent of the damage he and his other selves suffer when they meet. “Jamie always understood me.” Jamie was the first linear companion to experience the breaking of the Rules, and to comprehend its real damage. “I was very fond of Jamie.”

Peri knows that there is more involved than what he is saying. “Well, can’t you go to him now, ask for help?”

“No!” (He can’t! There is only one option left to him and he CAN’T face that.) “No, it’s impossible. The Time Lords sent him home.”

The Time Lords, the High Council. And just like that, all of his melancholy (and the grief and loneliness that are tearing at him too) changes instantly into outright fury. Everything that he has ever suffered has been the High Council’s fault.

And he has had enough.

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In The Three Doctors (Two), I gave you my reasons for setting that event before The Two Doctors. Well, now you finally have the other reason! The High Council’s interference in The Doctor’s life is never an accident.
> 
> Kartz and Reimer will be mentioned briefly again, further down in the series.
> 
> In the meantime, political tensions are rising and War is brewing…
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The War Games; The Three Doctors; Logopolis; Mawdryn Undead; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Twin Dilemma; The Two Doctors; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	21. Echoes of a Future Past (Six)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter count is up! We’re nearing the end of Classic Who. *Shakes head* Hard to believe.
> 
> I probably don’t need to remind you, but I am occasionally evil and love to feed you angst. I have taken liberties. You’ve been warned. 
> 
> -

-21-

-

Losing Jamie (again) almost breaks him. He is unable to endure such amounts of loss and grief, not in this body. So to starve off the loneliness, he clings a little tighter to Peri’s friendship. Peri is intelligent; she very respectfully does not mention Jamie or his other selves to him again.

He buries his sorrow so deeply it is impossible to find beneath his sharp temper.

-

When he sees the statue, his first thought is his graveyard will be a place called ‘Tranquil Repose?’ That doesn’t seem at all appropriate! Then he realises that the statue wears HIS face and ice water floods his veins. Is this why – since Seville – he has had no more shadowy memories or half-forgotten impressions of meeting other faces beyond his own? (Are there no other selves for him to know?) Is he never again going to regenerate?

To uncover the truth of the statue, he seeks The Great Healer. There is a brief moment, as he is wondering about the identity of one who would chose that name for themselves, that he cannot help his thoughts turning to his other selves. Cannot help but wonder whether the others would have wanted to know him. (Two may not have liked him best, but at least he hadn’t disliked him the most.) Him, with his arrogance and his discontent and his anger, his ability to irritate people within a few seconds of their acquaintance, him with his gaudy and underappreciated jacket…

(He does not miss them. At all. He does not.)

Then there are Daleks, and he is glad to be angry. He is brought before Davros, who has survived once again. Davros, who has claimed the title of Great Healer, because he has taken the bodies of the intelligent and ambitious and turned them into Daleks; while the weaker, the inferior, their corpses were turned into a concentrated protein…and distributed as food amongst famine ridden colonies.

The memories of Androgum augmentations and the taste of near-raw animal flesh on his tongue would have been bad enough. But Davros has taken his title – the very essence of HIS NAME – and turned it into a mockery. He has never loathed Davros the way he does here and now. Not knowing precisely what he could be capable of, he does nothing.

A squadron of Daleks arrive. They promptly pledge their allegiance to the Supreme Dalek, overpower Davros’s own Daleks, and announce their intention to make Davros stand trial for his crimes against them. Even better, the Daleks do not recognise his face. A near-malicious smile plays about his lips as he watches, thinking of what his own trials involved. (He wonders if Daleks can torment their victims half as well as the High Council can.) He lets his temper simmer, and still does nothing.

“You have not heard the last of me.” Davros’s resentment is cold.

Well, if Davros should survive…“I shall be waiting for you.”

One Dalek remains on guard as Davros is escorted away. He takes great pleasure in destroying it. He doesn’t even notice the weight of the gun in his palms, the way that Five often had. Not until he puts the weapon down and feels the empty space where it had been. This is enough to shake him from his ire.

He must not touch another weapon again, while wearing this face. It is far too dangerous.

This revelation is made particularly clear to him when Davros and the Daleks escape. As he speculates whether the scientist survived, he realises that he would rather Davros be dead.

-

He is running. He fears he’s not going to get there in time. But he keeps running. He cannot let her come to harm!

Then, Time stops around him.

(This time, they do not give him the opportunity to run.)

-

All he is aware of is that the TARDIS is silent. He is not Three but he cradles those memories close and the echo of Three’s presence protects him from the pain that the absence of sound causes.

-

He staggers out of the TARDIS, disorientated, but though his body is still the same his relief is short lived. He knows a Time Lord outpost when he sees one. (An outpost. They are using an outpost rather than risking his presence on Gallifrey. An outpost is used when the High Council wish to remain officially unaccountable. It is also used when the renegade or their work is considered disposable.) He allows himself to be subjected to the mental compulsion of the collective of Time Lord minds and walks himself into the darkened room. He does not resist, not yet.

“At last, Doctor.”

His accuser – The Valeyard – begins with the traditional words regarding his interference in Time. He leaps to his feet as it is clear where this is going (AGAIN?!), but The Valeyard is not finished. “He is also charged with, on diverse occasions, transgressing the First Law.”

He wonders whether it is possible to spontaneously combust with outrage. WHOSE FAULT IS THAT?!

(Why are they bringing this up now? Of course he has broken The First Rule! But they have always refused to acknowledge these transgressions, since the High Council were the ones responsible for involving him in that mess with Omega, and again with Rassilon –)

(Jamie. They know about Jamie, about his – Six’s – involvement in the matter with Dastari. The memories Jamie had of the incident must have registered on their record once his own time stream had synchronised with Jamie’s. They now know that he – Six – has broken the Rule without their direct interference.)

He is labelled an incorrigible meddler. The Inquisitor points out that a trial has been run before, holding him accountable for his interference. (Yes, precisely, AGAIN.) The Valeyard responds that the High Council had been too lenient on that occasion.

(He thinks of Two: the numb resignation of a future he could not escape; his forced regeneration; his body torn apart as the TARDIS screams. He thinks of Three; the silence of the old girl’s engines; the agony of a linear exile; the resentment of bearing another self’s consequences.)

He will NOT subject himself – or any of his future selves (should there be any) for that matter – to the High Council’s punishments again.

At least the High Council cannot be directly involved in conducting a trial this time around, as they have already tried him. Officially, the Court has been independently assigned by the Council in order for them to maintain a sense of plausible deniability. But he knows that there will – secretly – be members of the Inner Council present within the courtroom.

He plays the Lord President card, but it flunks. Apparently someone came to their senses and revoked his position of office again. When he is offered a court defender he instantly refuses; there is no one on Gallifrey that he trusts. He will defend himself, on behalf of all of his past selves. (He will show them that he does not need to be favoured by them in order to stand up against the Council for the sake of what is right.)

Unusually, the Valeyard does not choose to recite a long list of his apparent crimes – because not even Time Lords have Time for that – and instead wishes to use the Matrix to visually recount the evidence. This is not a tactic that has ever been employed by prosecutors; it is used occasionally by the defenders because of the emotional echo that is stimulated by the projection. It is not overtly personal, more akin to the way a stereo system allows people believe they are connected to a movie because they are surrounded by the noise; only the Matrix amplifies the accused emotional patterns rather than sound. Vague impressions of his emotions are able to be experienced by the Court.

Of course, since he is familiar with Peri, he can discern echoes of her emotions too.

Her anxiety attempts to bury itself under his skin and he can hardly stand it. He leaps to his feet. “Why do I have to sit here watching Peri getting upset?” And then – “where is Peri?”

“Where you left her.” The Valeyard is indifferent to his concern. “You don’t remember? Obviously a side effect of being taken out of Time.”

His inconsistent memory doesn’t bother him. He’s had practise enough with that. But Peri…she’s probably fine. He probably left her somewhere safe, to keep her away from the Time Lords. (He had been unable to do anything for Zoe and Jamie.) Just a temporary parting, obviously, because he does not think he could bear anything else. (Particularly so soon after Jamie, once again.)

-

The man across from him offers him sarcasm and flattery, calling him ‘my dear Doctor’ and he responds without thought, bantering back about his unpredictability before he remembers that he is not addressing The Master. The Valeyard addresses the Court with vigour, calling for this inquiry to become an Official Trial and that the punishment for his guilt should be the termination of his life. 

“So you want me dead.” This is no surprise. He doubts there is a Time Lord left on Gallifrey who would object to this anymore.

When the next accusation regarding his disruptive nature is made, he deliberately mangles The Valeyard’s Name, addressing him as ‘Boatyard’ instead. He chooses the slight carefully, using the implication of a ‘harbour’ because it also has connotations involving refuge and sanctuary, which naturally are not insulting. But while his ambiguity baffles the Court, The Valeyard does nothing beyond sneer. So he calls him ‘Graveyard’ instead.

And for a brief moment, he sees hatred reflected back at him, bitter and personal. But he cannot remember meeting a Time Lord bearing the name Valeyard before and he never forgets the ones who have cause to look at him in such a way. So he thinks that perhaps he had imagined it.

-

The moment his life is threatened in the visual evidence, he is quick to point out that he had been working under duress. When The Valeyard snaps irritably, he offers a suave apology and a sickly sweet smile.

He does not miss The Valeyard’s stare. It seems as though The Valeyard is familiar with his temperament and had not anticipated his acquiescence, which would suggest the Valeyard knows HIM, in this body, and rather well.

(Maybe he wrongs The Valeyard in the future then, assuming he still has one after this trial.)

“The Doctor has a well-known predilection for violence.”

He is on his feet and he starts shouting, irate, but he cannot claim his hands are clean; especially since he does not clearly recall the events that are being recounted. “Occasionally I may have to resort to a modicum of force –”

He is ordered by the Inquisitor to be silent.

(He remembers the sound of Cybermen and Sontarans dying; remembers facing The Rani and The Master with a weapon in his hands and the thoughts that followed; remembers Androgums, scientists and soldiers that he did not mourn; and he worries what display of his temper the Court may witness.)

-

He continues to alter the man’s name, merely to be spiteful. First, ‘Farmyard’, implying his work will be purposed for commercial use; subject to the Council’s will and not his own. This is followed by ‘Scrapyard,’ because his work will all go to waste in the end. Then he correctly uses Valeyard and offers his apologies, quite insincerely. He does not like the man.

-

He is unsurprised to learn that the Council have been monitoring his TARDIS lately. (He thinks they have probably been doing so since he and Two parted.) He is determined to keep his old girl safe from them, and makes a note to strengthen her defences dramatically later.

-

When he watches himself call Peri ‘Sarah Jane,’ he braces himself against the echo of his own guilt and he hopes the Council cannot discern the reasons behind it. Even so, he does not think they will raise the subject of his regeneration. If they do, they risk having to discuss Five’s transgressions as well as his own, not to mention Five’s involvement with Omega and the Arc of Infinity. 

(Commander Maxil’s face – his own face – flashes across his thoughts and he wonders. Maxil is not present, though he should have been given his position. He does not have time to ponder why, but he impulsively absolves the man of having shot him.)

[Presented with the opportunity to attend the trial by the High Council, Commander Maxil diplomatically refuses. He remembers the echoes he had felt when his body’s appearance was the same as the one The Doctor bears now, and those echoes scare him. He knows better than to involve himself in the High Council’s crusade against The Doctor over the Rules of Time.]

-

“I can’t let people die if there’s a chance of saving them.”

He has never had cause to feel genuinely proud of himself (this self) before, but hearing himself say those words changes that. (He wishes…he wishes his other selves could have known it too.)

The evidence stops partway, on the order of the High Council. The Inquisitor protests that this judicial inquiry was appointed by the High Council and demands the evidence continue. Though it does, it has clearly been slightly amended.

Interesting, he thinks. While the High Council may not be officially involved, the allusion that they are monitoring the trial’s progress shows how invested they are in the outcome. The Council – and The Valeyard – must desperately want to end him, to risk exposing their secrets for his sake.

-

His dislike of his prosecutor has been steadily growing. So this time, he spins conjecture on the meaning of the term ‘Valeyard’ – commonly accepted on Gallifrey as a ‘learned court prosecutor’ – before pointing out that the man’s perspective is at odds with this and suggests he changes his Title.

The courtroom draws breath and The Inquisitor is quick to snap a demand for an apology. He refuses. He does not like the man, he does not respect the man, and the man wants him dead. He has no scruples about passing judgement on his Title.

But The Valeyard actually states outright that he does not take offence. This is so irregular he cannot help but wonder why this would be.

-

He hears himself on the Matrix evidence ask the questions bothering him – about the box of secrets sought by Glitz – just as he is currently thinking them himself. The unity is discouraging rather than the opposite; after all, it is merely himself he is keeping pace with.

He saves the entire universe and the Court is unmoved. Typical. The injustice of his situation begins to concentrate his anger. He lashes out with ‘Brickyard’ and with this latest infraction The Inquisitor states outright that he is to use The Valeyard’s title.

Then The Valeyard addresses her as Sagacity. Sagacity – a tactic he often used in his youth, attempting to appease his professors by acknowledging their wisdom and good judgement. He finds it ironic that the Inquisitor also responds to this honorific.

The next segment of evidence begins, the one which he had been removed from to attend this farce. He watches as himself speculates to Peri that if an advanced civilisation is indeed manipulating a lesser developed one, it has to be stopped.

“By us?” Peri asks/had asked.

“Who else is there?” 

The Valeyard revels in this simple statement. “Your very words condemn you, Doctor.”

But even if this IS the case he does not care, because he knows that he had been right to interfere with whatever had been occurring; he may not remember the incident, but he has been filled with a creeping sense of foreboding which always singles bad things from his memories encroaching on his present.

Then The Valeyard begins to expound upon his companion’s tendencies to get themselves into danger, citing examples of the risks undertaken by Peri. (Is the man suggesting that HE is a risk to his companions? What right does he have to determine that?) The Valeyard wants this information to be considered when the decision is made to take his life…and his future regenerations.

(He recalls no other faces, no other selves. The concept is suddenly frightening.)

He rises to bluster but is called out on his behaviour before he can complete a sentence. He sinks silently back into his seat as the evidence resumes. He begins to feel out of his depth, quite aware that he has no friends left on Gallifrey and no renegade would return if unnecessary, not even to save him. (ESPECIALLY to save him.) He is on his own and the Court seems to have already settled into their bias.

He is alone. (With not even his other selves to derive comfort from.)

-

He is eminently grateful that the echoes of the Matrix evidence do not convey the depth of his disgust and dislike (dislike is too gentle a word, but it is the safest to use) of Sil. The slow and steady undercurrent of his ever-present anger does not alter, so hopeful the Court will not notice. He hopes he had controlled himself before they pulled him out. But seated in his chair, he looks from Peri to Sil and is unnerved by their physical nearness.

The Valeyard mocks the fallibility of his memory and hints there is something far more disturbing that he is forgetting. (He is afraid of his past and the future, as he has long been, but he also fears that honesty is what makes The Valeyard most dangerous.)

He watches himself speak of treachery, of a callous disregard for Peri’s life and their friendship, and he wants to SCREAM because he would NEVER abandon Peri. He is told that the Matrix cannot lie. But he would NEVER! He tries to curb his anger before it can grow, but it is difficult to remain impassive when he can feel Peri’s uncertainty, her apprehension, her doubt. He hears himself spout lies about her worthlessness, that she should die in his place. How could anyone believe that? He would give his life in the space between his heartbeats for the safety of his companions. And though he is repeatedly told the Matrix cannot lie, it MUST be a lie!

(He hates himself regardless.)

The accusation that his memory is “a little faulty” makes him want to laugh himself sick. Constantly meeting himself, having memories of events occurring in the wrong order, of course he cannot reliably remember anything! But when the suggestion is made to adjourn the trial, he refuses instantly. They will not beat him. He also again rejects the offer of a less emotional defender.

“If the Time Lords of Gallifrey want my life, you don’t think I’d entrust my defence to one of their august number, do you?”

-

He watches the transplant – Lord Kiv’s brain into a new body – and he is fractured between the urge to be sick, to weep or shout until his throat bleeds. He does not know why, but it does not bode well. He tells himself it is merely the show of such hunger for immortality – nothing good ever comes when immortality is sought.

But there is a compression within his chest that brings the faces of Jamie and Zoe (and Katarina and Adric) to his mind. He does his best to ignore it. He overlays his misgivings with his pride in Peri and how she is handling herself in his absence and apparent inconsistent behaviour.

Until Peri falls and the shout of grief and rage is torn from deep within him. 

Though Peri is not dead he can feel no relief beyond his sudden hatred for The Valeyard, this man who dares suggest that he is responsible for all the trauma of his companions. He does not remember having hated anyone more.

-

He is horrified. They want Peri. They want her body, to transplant another into her, to replace HER. But he would never have allowed that to happen. He is enveloped within the echo of his own emotions as he watches, and remembers.

He is running. He fears he’s not going to get there in time. But he keeps running. He cannot let her come to harm!

Then, Time stops around him. 

There is light, the TARDIS is silent and he is summonsed away.

No. NO!

He watches in horror as Peri’s body speaks with another’s voice, bearing another’s awareness in what had once been her eyes. He watches the High Council interfere in the events that remain after his removal. He watches as the warrior king roars in defiance even as he murders the body of the woman he had come to save.

He expects rage and fury – and it is clear from the way the Court shifts that they expect it also – but there is only numbness.

“You killed Peri.”

He does not hear their justification. There are no words that would be enough.

“Peri died, Doctor, because you abandoned her.” The Valeyard is maliciously cold.

No.

“I was taken out of Time for another reason.” He is even colder. “And I have every intention of finding out what it is.”

-

The Inquisitor grants a brief recess. He withdraws to the antechamber and stares blankly at the Matrix database, struggling against the tide of his grief.

Perpugilliam Brown is dead. Her body stolen and her mental presence gone forever, she is dead. He cannot – he CANNOT – he cannot do this, not now. He has no time for mourning if he is to save himself. He must, for her sake. She would not want him to surrender.

He contemplates his situation and everything he had learnt from Two and Three’s ordeal. He had been going to use evidence from his past in his defence, but this trial is not about his other selves it is about HIM. So he decides instead to use his future for his testimony. All of his other trials – official or otherwise – have resulted in a death sentence (whether or not they were carried out), but his future implies that he MUST live, or there will be horrid amounts of temporal backlash and, even worse, endless amounts of paperwork.

(And if his unorthodox choice blatantly infers his history of Rule breaking, well that’s clearly a simple coincidence on his part. Perhaps they need to be reminded that no one appreciates the delicacy of Rule breaking more than him.)

-

When the Court reconvenes his sorrow is mocked, so he buries it. He lets his anger surface (though ensures it remains tempered) as he is depending on it to sustain him through the remainder of this trial. And endure it he will, because there WILL be a future for him beyond this.

The Court stiffens just as he had predicted when he announces his evidence shows his future and subsequent improvement. But The Valeyard does not quiver, only sneers. “This I must see.” The tone of his voice implies that he knows otherwise.

His introduction to his segment of evidence is methodical and crisp, before he is distracted by the fleeting sense of emotional vibes from the woman on the screen. She must be his future companion. His first impression is dismay and apprehension, because she appears to be attempting to…change him.

He cannot change his physical appearance any more than he can change his temperament. And yet, he does not appear to be taking offence at her behaviour nor is he overtly objecting to her attempts, so he supposes they must be close for him to tolerate it.

“Mel,” he calls her. “Melanie, known as Mel.”

He wonders whether she gave him permission to do that, or if he had assumed he could because he had already known he would, just as he had with – 

(No! Do not think of her!)

He watches as Mel plans mischief and excitement and he fights a smile. He likes her. And it helps that she defends his honour and reputation when he refuses to do so himself.

And then the evidence is not what he had seen it to be.

“The girl, Melanie, her evidence was important.” The Valeyard refutes his value of Melanie – of Mel – with a reminder of Peri’s death, but he refuses to give the slight any credence. “I am being manipulated!”

And then he and The Valeyard are arguing, furiously, about his nature. The Inquisitor interrupts, asking whether he intends to continue with his evidence and he stares at The Valeyard for a moment longer before he resumes his seat without a word. The only way to discover the truth is to persist.

-

He is not caught unawares by The Valeyard moving to accuse him of editing the Matrix evidence. In fact, he has been waiting for it. “At the risk of appearing impertinent…Sagacity, I would point out that you, The Valeyard and everyone here present could have acquired the same knowledge.”

The importance was not in the point they missed. It was in making them consider that unsanctioned alterations to the evidence were possible, perhaps even outside the High Council’s authority.

-

He finds himself in complete agreement with, well, himself. He envies Mel’s amazing ability for almost total recall. After all of his memory problems, he can barely comprehend possessing such clarity anymore.

-

He tests the patience of the Court with his evidence, offering them as much coverage of the events as he can until they – or rather, The Valeyard – think to question its relevance. He wants them interested in the show that is happening here, in the same way a reader becomes so engrossed with a story they need to continue with it, if only for the sake of knowledge.

He wants them to question what they see, to wonder precisely why he selected this evidence if not to save himself with it. Especially as the Matrix evidence continues not to display as it ought to.

The Valeyard seems gratified by the concept of his inescapable demise, far more so than a simple prosecutor would take from the conclusion of their case. So, it must be personal, as he suspected. But why? What would The Valeyard gain from his death? Mere satisfaction for a job well done? No, there must be more to it than that.

And if he is to find out, he must bare himself to the Court. They wish to hate him? They wish for him to be the enemy? Then he shall allow this.

The words that come from the matrix, both his and the humans, are all shrouded by his sense of inevitability and acquiescence. “A question of self-preservation, kill or be killed;” “a conflict in which there can be no justice;” “there’s no choice and that goes for you too, Doctor.”

He stands before the Court. He presents the fact that the request for his help came from the man who was in authority, and therefore he did not meddle. The Inquisitor accepts this argument. Interestingly, The Valeyard does not refute it, merely insists they continue. (Almost as if the man already knows. Perhaps his growing suspicions have been correct.)

He knows how this segment ends. He wants to see what The Valeyard does with the information.

“Every Vervoid was destroyed by your ingenious plan.” The Valeyard waits for his solemn confirmation before he continues, picking up momentum. “Whether or not The Doctor has proved himself innocent of meddling is no longer the cardinal issue before this Court. He has proved himself guilty of a far greater crime.” The Valeyard’s expression contorts with an undiscernible emotion. “The Doctor has destroyed a complete species. The charge must now be genocide!”

(Yes, genocide. Now the Court – and the High Council – are aware what he is capable of.)

He does not speak again until he is directly addressed by The Inquisitor and points out that much of the evidence shown by ‘Railyard’ had been altered, contrasting against his own memories. He will keep ‘railing’ against the injustice of the system until he is heard. She is offended of course; the one consistent fact in his dealings with Gallifreyan bodies of power is that they are always offended when he suggests conspiracy. He finds THAT laughable.

The Keeper of the Matrix takes the stand and affirms that it is quite impossible to tamper with the Matrix. Indeed, no one can even enter without the Key of Rassilon. Well, he knows for a fact that it is impossible to place your trust in any artefact of Rassilon’s.

When The Inquisitor asks him who he believes wants him dead – in a personal regard, not the official stance involved with this trial – he is honest and names his suspect. The Valeyard laughs derisively and the Court dismisses his conjecture.

He simmers with indignation. The Court fidgets nervously, skirting back from his rising wrath.

The Inquisitor has to steady herself before reminding him that he would require witnesses to support his accusation that the Matrix has been tampered with. Just as he is pointing out that any witnesses of his would be scattered across time and space, Melanie and Glitz enter the courtroom.

He is actually astounded.

The Inquisitor is as surprised as he is. Glitz says they had been sent for and she demands to know by whom.

“By me, madam.”

The MASTER!

(The short yet intense surge of triumph within him at the man’s arrival is unexpected. He came!)

He finds his voice. “Oh no, now I really am finished!” But he is no fool: The Master has come voluntarily, so makes sure his answer to Mel – that the man is his oldest “enemy” – is heard by the entire Court. Whatever The Master’s motive in coming here, they cannot risk suspicion of being on the same side.

The Master ignores his histrionics and continues to address the Inquisitor from within the Matrix, flaunting his copy of the Key. (HA! How ridiculous does the Court find his theory now?) The Master admits he has been following the trial with great interest and amusement. The irritating man probably enjoyed the show at his expense, and has now come to finish the job. He braces himself for whatever retribution the man has devised. “Now I must intervene for the sake of…justice.”

…What?

The Master’s eyes turn towards The Valeyard. “I’m not prepared to countenance a rival.”

Calmly explaining that he has sent Mel and Glitz to them, the desired witnesses, The Master prompts the court session to proceed. He tries to catch the man’s eye, but his old friend is ignoring him again. The Master knows something, he realises. Something important, and the man finds everyone else’s (though probably mainly his) ignorance amusing.

Right up until The Valeyard uses the phrase “this person who calls himself The Master.”

The Master’s eyes glitter strangely. “You pretend not to know me, do you? I’m surprised by the shortness of the Valeyard’s memory.”

That tone of voice is one he knows well. (He thinks of a look of affronted irritation as they meet in the Dark Tower; a telephone cord tries to strangle him; the truth of the Melkur is disguised behind the distraction of Tremas.) Not recognising The Master is not wise.

He consents to play the game his old friend has set in motion. He questions Glitz about the box of secrets he had been interested in during the events of the first segment of evidence. Glitz casually informs the Court it had contained secrets stolen from the Matrix, and that Earth had been used as the base of operations because it had been known the Time Lords would trace the leak.

When an instant accusation of a lie comes from the prosecutor, ‘Stackyard’ falls from his lips with a vengeance before he can catch it. (What he does catch is the proud, near-impressed, tilt of The Master’s chin from the corner of his eye.) The evidence has been ‘stacked’ against him, one thing after another piling up until the situation was near hopeless. He has every right to offer insult now!

Mel ruins his moment of vindication by addressing him as ‘Doc’ in front of the whole Court. He acknowledges it (because they would notice if he didn’t) and pretends he allows it from her.

Glitz continues by explaining that the High Council had indeed discovered the leak and The Master confirms that the Council had near destroyed Earth in order to protect their secrets. He and The Master fire off one another, just as they had always used to when they worked beside each other, and lay out the scale of the Council’s treachery between them.

He does not shackle the indignation that swells within him this time. He does not care if the entire courtroom can see it. “That sanctimonious gang of hypocrites were covering their tracks.” Again! “I have battled against evil, against power-mad conspirators. I should have stayed here!” The Court stirs uneasily in his presence, wary of him and his righteous fury. “Ten million years of absolute power, that’s what it takes to be really corrupt!”

And then, on the tail of his accusations and dissent, The Master agrees with him. He waits for the punchline, both point and persuasion as it always is when the man offers it. It is not what he expects it to be.

The Master reveals that the High Council had made a deal with The Valeyard. “Or as I’ve always known him, The Doctor, to adjust the evidence. In return for which he was promised the remainder of The Doctor’s regenerations.”

...!!!!!!

“Did you call him…The Doctor?”

“The Valeyard is an amalgamation of the darker sides of your nature, somewhere between your twelfth and final incarnation.” In this context this latter comment is understood to be a euphemism for his twelfth regeneration. No Time Lord openly speaks of a twelfth regeneration, the last in the official allotment. (The Master knows better than to advertise to any Gallifreyan officials that he is living proof that this allocation can be circumvented; the High Council would not rest until this exception was neutralised.)

“You do not improve with age.” There is a smile in The Master’s voice, as though he finds his statement somewhat sentimental.

But he cannot take his eyes off The Valeyard.

(He is struck by a sudden memory of the origins of Three’s animosity towards Two; such undiluted resentment that blends in easily with his own general anger. And suddenly, he understands where his easy hatred of The Valeyard had sprung from; he has long known how to hate himself.)

The whole courtroom is shaken by the revelation, but The Inquisitor attempts to retain order by continuing the trial despite the Broken Law before them. Fearful whispers pass around the Court, edged with the desperate hope that if The Valeyard is not truly one of The Doctors, not even truly corporeal, perhaps this does not have to be considered an indiscretion against the Rules.

There are also other softer whispers, calling for action to halt this Rule Breaking at once and forever.

The Valeyard takes advantage of the turmoil rippling across the courtroom and makes a break for the Matrix. He immediately gives chase. He knows how dangerous this man could be; this man who is him.

-

[The Valeyard finds it simple enough from the outset of the trial to conceal his hatred for the man across from him from the Court; they are preoccupied with their fear of The Doctor’s own anger. The Doctor is clearly aware of it though, mangling his Name in a pitiful attempt at aggravation. He calls him ‘Graveyard’ and how true he strikes, even in his ignorance. ‘A site of the non-living, location of the unwanted’; a ‘Graveyard’ he may as well be. The eventual suggestion that his Chosen Title should be changed is irrelevant because he also wants to remove The Doctor from his Title. They are but one and the same.]

[The Valeyard’s expression contorts with an undiscernible emotion as he tastes the word “genocide.” In this point in their time stream he does not know precisely what exists beyond this courtroom in their future, only that it BURNS.]

[The arrival of The Master is something The Valeyard had not anticipated and he hates the man intensely for saving The Doctor, though he does wonder where The Master got his information. When The Valeyard volunteered his services to the High Council, they were unaware of his identity. He had merely told them he could prevent The Doctor from ever again transgressing the First Law of Time and put an end to his Rule breaking. After all, if HE is the only Doctor, he would have no need for flippancies such as caring about any other selves. He is determined to destroy The Doctor, with every fibre of his being.]

-

He emerges within the Matrix. The first thing he notices is there is a bell toiling, somewhere. (The cloister bell tolls, and Four sees The Watcher. The moment is approaching.) He wonders how much influence The Valeyard has had in creating the environment.

The Valeyard is nowhere to be seen, but this is expected. He knows The Valeyard will want to humiliate him first, wants to break him before taking his life. But The Valeyard has picked the wrong Doctor to try and destroy. This body of his – of theirs – is vengeful, brimming with righteous anger…and self-hatred. The Valeyard would have had a better chance at success had he targeted a facet of him that held more compassion, more kindness. 

Five’s memories of losing the numbers take him by surprise. He shudders. He wonders why he has thought of Five specifically; he is not blinded by favouritism like the others had been. He brushes the thought aside. Here in the Matrix, he can FEEL the instability of The Valeyard’s physical existence, the distortion of time energy that is currently sustaining him, and yet their minds do not touch, do not overlap. The fact that they cannot connect telepathically indicates there is something WRONG with their time stream.

[There is an Event between them that does-not-yet-exist, a fixed temporal occurrence that BURNS with such violence. They both sense it – “because you will remember” – but their memories cannot surface: the Time Before and After this Event are sundered by a temporal division.]

-

Even in the Matrix, he is being constrained by pointless bureaucracy. He wants to bang his head against a desk.

(“Stop thumping your head on the desk,” The Master laughs, “they wouldn’t expedite these procedures even if you were to drop dead!”)

“Your employer wants me dead.” He says aloud. And sure enough, these words are enough to cut through the bureaucracy with an ease that he had always longed for in his youth.

He is offered a consent form. If he dies, The Valeyard will receive his remaining lives; ‘lives,’ not ‘regenerations.’ For The Valeyard this is not just about existence, it is about revenge on all of the selves between them.

He dips the quill into the ink. (He thinks of Five, shackled into Mawdryn’s regenerator and the grief over the would-be-murder of his future selves. For a moment, guilt wraps itself around his lungs so tightly that he cannot breathe.) His future selves will be at risk, but…he does not know any beyond himself. This disassociation lowers the stakes of his gamble.

He signs the parchment.

-

The Valeyard attempts to kill him with mental projections immediately. But he knows the man…he knows himself. So he expects to face him. And when The Valeyard does appear, his first remark is to insult humans and their inability to conceive reality beyond a one-dimensional concept. (Does some part of him truly blame humans for lacking a perception of Time?)

“There is a reality that you and I can both agree on.”

“Death?”

The Valeyard does not bother denying this, stating coolly, “I have no urge to be contaminated by your whims.”

“What I don’t comprehend is why you want me dead.” No. This is a lie. It is not hard to imagine why this man would want him dead; this man is him. And so he is not surprised by the poisonous gas that has been fed enough hatred to become tangible.

The house he conveniently stumbles across as he flees is unexpected, but it feels trustworthy to him, so he enters.

“Welcome, Doctor.”

He responds as civilly as he is able. “Well I never thought I’d welcome the sight of you.” The Master’s easy reply is that it won’t happen again. (What won’t? His gratitude or the rescue?) 

“I want The Valeyard eliminated.” Of course he does. He doesn’t mind this, though he’s irritated at the implication that The Master seems to think that he always has the upper hand in their encounters. (Besides, he doesn’t have time now to make a tally and count whether it’s true.) “The Valeyard, the distillation of all that’s evil in you.” (He wonders. He wonders about himself. He compares The Valeyard with his current body, with its rage and penchant for being surrounded by unmourned death.) “Additionally, he’s infuriated me by threatening to deny me the pleasure of personally bringing about your destruction.”

He almost smiles at this last, because he believes it.

Distracted by reflecting on what a virtuous and moral version of The Master would be like (like Tremas) he is caught in the hypnotic assault field the man has set up before he notices.

He is entirely self-aware of course. The Master would never leave him vulnerable and helpless without also leaving him infuriated. He wholeheartedly agrees with Glitz’s assertion that Time Lords are far more devious than common criminals like him.

But chills go up his spine when The Valeyard calls The Master a second-rate adversary. The Valeyard’s words imply that he knows precisely what he – The Doctor – is capable of and considers him to be the greater threat. (He ignores the truth he finds in this: at least The Master is honest about his ruthless tendencies.)

When he recovers from the hypnotic field, Mel calls him out. He follows her willingly, but when she tells him he must face the Court again or be no better than the Valeyard, he knows. She calls him a renegade and an outcast, both of which are not terms that he would use to describe the Valeyard’s evil. All those labels indicate is non-conformity.

And sure enough, Melanie’s words to the Court condemn him.

“Doctor, you stand accused of genocide.” The Inquisitor announces. “The verdict is guilty.”

The words he speaks in response are nothing but the truth. “Unless we are prepared to sacrifice our lives for the good of all, then evil and anarchy will spread like the plague.” And he wonders what the Court will make of THAT. “I accept your verdict.”

He forgets to account for the real Melanie; his companion who is not yet his companion. So he is unprepared for her taking matters into her own hands to save him from the fake Court.

-

He does not believe The Valeyard is here for him alone. No, if the man is truly him, but without morals or misgivings…

He finds the list, naming Time Lords attending his trial. “Every member of the Ultimate Court of Appeal, the supreme guardians of Gallifreyan Law.” He sees the names of the Inner Council members who are present, listed despite the fact they are never named on an official record. His own sense of justice borders on retribution; The Valeyard’s would be blatant revenge.

He catches The Valeyard with ease (The Valeyard allows it, as he would), because The Valeyard wants his genius to be appreciated. (Just as he and The Master would.)

He frowns at the choice of weapon. “Microwave amplification and stimulated emission of radiation.” He is intimately familiar with the sensation of radiation breaking down every cell in his body. (Has The Valeyard chosen this form of death as retaliation on Three? What fault does Three bear in this?)

[But it is not Three’s death The Valeyard is obsessed with.]

“The ultimate weapon.”

Mel is appalled. “Destroy us and you destroy yourself.” But The Valeyard simply laughs.

Of course the man is going to murder the Court. (The Valeyard is part of The Doctor too, has heard and seen everything that the Court thinks of him.) He knows the man will have already taken steps to depose the High Council. The remainder of the Inner Council are bound to follow the destruction of the Court. 

He begins to work quickly but – the Council, the Court – he is not doing it for any of them. He is saving them because The Valeyard desires otherwise. But he can’t shut the maser down because, for obvious reasons, The Valeyard is just as clever as he is.

So he sets up an overload and triggers a self-destruct instead.

The Matrix energy begins to crackle and distort around them. He staggers out and very consciously leaves The Valeyard behind to die.

-

He re-enters the courtroom and indifferently observes that the Court survived. “I was about to be sentenced, I believe.”

The Inquisitor, who is typically grateful for her life, actually smiles at him. “All charges against you are dismissed, Doctor.” And then she tells him that Perpugilliam Brown is alive. He hears nothing beyond his relief.

Until she very magnanimously suggests he stand for Lord President again.

He laughs nervously, offers the suggestion in return and begins to back away. It is a tactical retreat, he is not fleeing. But he does request a favour: that when they restore the Matrix, she can do what she likes with The Master, but is to be lenient with Glitz.

This statement acts as his closing statement on the official record and makes the Court nervous. He knows he will not have to worry about Glitz’s safety… or memories and freedom.

-

He makes for the TARDIS and doesn’t question Mel’s presence at his side until she mentions carrot juice. He suddenly remembers that he has not met her yet, she belongs in his future.

“Carrot juice, carrot juice, carrot juice.”

He still has a future and carrot juice becomes a mantra for that. He has a FUTURE, and perhaps there will be more other selves after all.

He waits and sure enough, after only a few moments, a bewildered Glitz appears in the console room. He tells Mel and Glitz to make themselves sparse for an hour in the TARDIS, warning Glitz he will be searched prior to leaving. He’s not worried about leaving them to their own devices; the old girl will keep an eye on them.

He dematerializes and rematerializes six corridors away. Then he promptly heads to a Matrix conduit and hacks his way in.

“I suppose you expect me to be grateful, you coming to my defence like this.” He says irritably as he pulls The Master free of the Matrix.

“Not at all.” The man responds, unruffled, as he smirks. “That would be most unlike YOU.” He is considering whether to shove The Master back into the Matrix and leave him to rot for a few hours (gratitude notwithstanding) as the man adds, “in any case, I was returning a favour. You are aware how much I despise being indebted to you.”

He decides it would be counter-intuitive to have to free him again. (It has nothing to do with the relief he had felt at seeing him during the trial.) The Master’s response has made him curious anyway. (It is VERY annoying that the man knows him so well.) “Indebted how?”

“Nothing sinister, I assure you, my dear Doctor.” It is not as though The Master can blame him for his suspicion: the last time The Master had voluntarily offered him assistance (officially), the deciding factor had been his earlier murder. “Merely for a conversation over a cup of tea.”

“Tea?!” He splutters as he follows the man down the corridor towards the security complex where the Inner Council will have impounded The Master’s TARDIS. “I find that highly unlikely. Isn’t there some sort of rule that makes you incapable of civil conversation? And over TEA no less.” He grabs The Master’s arm and yanks him, none too gently, back out of the line of sight of the sentry.

The Master is strangely subdued. “You are not the only one who breaks the Rules.”

He freezes.

No…

Their eyes meet and their animosity is temporarily swept aside, eclipsed by the gravity of the situation. There are a lot of things they will taunt each other with, but NEVER that Rule.

(The Master had gone still, asking how many times it had happened, and had worn a strange expression as Five had attempted to count.) “How many times?” He digs his fingers into the man’s arms painfully, his voice strangled by his horror. “How many of you?”

“Just the one, twice over. A past self and my current self. I’ve just come from there.” He pauses. “And the answer to your question, long ago, is: I was all right; and I am fine.”

(Relief crashes through him. If The Master had been disturbed enough to respond to an inquiry regarding his well-being and says he is fine then he is being honest. The Master has always been stronger than him – temporally, mentally – anyway. He’ll be fine, just as The Brigadier was fine.)

He straightens, adopting his finest obnoxious air. “I hope you realise that I don’t CARE whether you are or not.”

His old friend grins wickedly. “Of course YOU don’t.”

And the status quo between them realigns with ease.

He releases the man’s arm as they watch the sentry move on, leaving the Greek Pillar briefly unguarded. He gets the impression that The Master’s TARDIS has deliberately refused to operate its perception filters just to be contrary – the Time Lords will find the nonconformity of the ‘fault’ in the chameleon circuit offensive. The Master’s TARDIS is practically shrieking for attention with its obviousness.

“Come along, Doctor. We have a TARDIS to steal.”

He smiles, despite himself. “Just like old times,” he murmurs.

-

The instant the temporal locks around the security complex are disabled, two things happen. The alarms begin to wail, alerting the guards and the Inner Council to the theft, and The Master slips inside the Greek Pillar, promptly locking him out.

He watches the dematerialization indignantly. Typical! This is why he refuses on principle to thank the man for anything.

He flees down the corridors back towards his own TARDIS, hoping that he can evade the notice of the guards (he doesn’t need ANOTHER trial), grumbling under his breath.

The tea had better be very GOOD tea.

-

Once Melanie and Glitz have been returned to their respective time zones, he brings up the trial footage that he had appropriated and reviews the section from after he had left the courtroom.

He is impressed that The Master had told The Inquisitor outright to question the High Council, openly declared the trial to be a travesty and him a scapegoat. The Council wouldn’t have taken too kindly to that and the man will need to take care in the future.

And The Master had hesitated, when she had expressed doubt that he had involved himself out of concern for The Doctor. The hesitation was brief, but it had been there. He is almost touched, until The Master stated he would back The Valeyard’s chances as more favourable, though had no objection to their mutual destruction. How predictable.

When the High Council is disposed, The Master addresses the Court – or rather the Inner Council members who are present – and gives his usual ultimatum. It doesn’t fool him; The Master has never wanted to rule Gallifrey, but the statement is the best form of revenge he could offer the Council. Perhaps they really should have kept their word and given the man the new regeneration cycle Borusa had promised him.

But at the conclusion of the footage he grapples with his doubt over one small fact. Because he had not known that the fact had come from The Master. So, against his better judgement, he cross references the death of Lord Kiv against multiple external databases.

And he presses his hands firmly against the console as he fights the urge to return to the outpost and destroy it.

The Master had always – secretly – been quite impressed with Peri; she had threatened him with nothing more than a shoe and her ability to shout when they had first met. Perhaps The Master had felt the same bitter frustration that he had upon discovering that her life had been lost as a result of nothing more than the whim of the Council disrupting Time.

Perhaps that is why the man had lied about her surviving.

He cannot breathe through his self-loathing and loneliness. He cannot endure THIS! This body is not able to. He closes his eyes until he can breathe again.

Carrot juice.

HE may not be able to bear this, but maybe HE won’t have to for very long.

-

[Not long after the conclusion of The Doctor’s Court trial, they pass each other in the corridor. It is an unexceptional incident because the first Time Lord does not know this face that the other now wears and therefore deems him insignificant. But while Commander Maxil gives no indication that he has noticed The Keeper, he recognises The Valeyard instantly. He keeps his silence but does not forget.]

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I have killed Peri. Since we only had The Master’s word for her survival, I didn’t think it was outside the realm of possibility for him to be lying. He’s The Master after all. Plus, Nicola Bryant (like me) had been disappointed that Production had negated her dramatic death scene, so I took that as her permission to retain its original impact.
> 
> While the ‘Time Lord’ definition of Valeyard is stated during the trial, that is not why he chose that Title: ‘Vale’ – a Latin expression of farewell; ‘the whole nine Yards’ – everything. Something for you to think on until I bring The Valeyard back.  
> The other breakdowns of the derivatives The Doctor gives him were explored using dictionary definitions.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The War Games; The Three Doctors; Planet of The Spiders; Arc of Infinity; Mawdryn Undead; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Twin Dilemma; Attack of The Cybermen; The Mark of The Rani; The Two Doctors; Revelation of the Daleks; The Trial of A Time Lord: ‘The Mysterious Planet,’ ‘Mindwarp,’ ‘Terror of the Vervoids,’ & ‘Ultimate Foe;’ the minisode Time Crash; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	22. The Sixth Regeneration hurts the most

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six is not in a good place.
> 
> -

-22-

Since the end of the Dark Times and the foundation of Gallifrey’s justice system, no trial has ever been concluded with a verdict other than guilty. The sentences are decided before a trial even begins and punishments are often orchestrated before the defence is mounted.

The Valeyard’s separate arrangement with the Council notwithstanding; his official sentence would have been death and regeneration. (Again.)

The final verdict doesn’t change that.

-

(Carrot juice, he chants continuously to himself. Carrot juice.)

Adrift in the wake of his trial, he smothers himself with resentment, with outrage and antipathy, wrapping them around himself as though they are as physically tangible as his jacket. Feeling vindicated in his right to meddle he moves from army to dictatorship, tearing up factories and tearing down laboratories in his quest to weed out evil and corruption. Swift and relentless as a wildfire he does not falter, does not stop. 

(He cannot stop because he is alone, as he has never been in this body, and he fears the vast expanse of loneliness that is racing to catch up with him.)

He ignores the spaces beside him where his companions usually stand and does not notice the faces of any he flits by in passing who, in different circumstances, may have been potential companions themselves. But he does not see them, because they are not the one he is awaiting (nor lost).

He stumbles upon a research facility obsessed with unlocking the secret to immortality. (The awareness in those eyes was no longer hers and she had been murdered for it.) He topples a regime and explodes a moon, but he only manages to save one of the test subjects: a frightened child who clings to his leg as she cries soundlessly. He keeps her close, telling her the names of every star they can see until she smiles. He eventually entrusts her to the care of an insurgent who she had taken a shine to and Subject Twenty-Three leaves him with a broad smile, a green cat pin affixed proudly to her shirt and a new designation: Pixie.

(“A peri is a good and beautiful fairy in Persian mythology.”)

He flees to Earth.

(He runs from his grief. He cannot allow it to catch him either.)

He denies he has begun entertaining thoughts about finding a man called Howard (because Peri had told him about the lights and Pixie had awoken screaming about the dark and his craving for justice – for retribution – has not yet been sated) and he all but throws himself into trouble. And then he runs into – literally, he RUNS right into her, bowls them both straight over – health-advocate, memory-like-an-elephant Melanie.

(Mel! Carrot juice and his future.)

Meeting Mel is different to his previous experiences of meeting other future companions for the ‘first’ time chronologically, because in the past his future had also been their future, but this time her future is not only his future but also his past. The contrast is a little unsettling.

He knows that Mel will join him – it’s inescapable and he can’t prevent it if he wanted to – but even so, perhaps he does sell himself a little more than he has done before.

(He does not want to be alone anymore.)

When he asks if she would like to travel with him, she says yes. The smile he gives her in return feels surprisingly natural on his face.

-

Mel has not been with him long before she comments on his appearance – his physique rather than his attire. (He clutches his lapels apprehensively as she starts to speak, but she does not mention his jacket and he takes consolation from this.) She begins to make suggestions, and he is about to launch into a long-winded (and mildly-irritated) explanation regarding Time Lord physiology when she uses the word “change.”

The word reverberates strangely in his mind and in the space between his heart beats, every cell in his body quivers in anticipation. Change. He needs to change.

(His punishment is the same as before – death and renewal – but this time, as a result of his decision to use forthcoming events as evidence, he has a FUTURE beyond the trial. Regeneration is inevitable, already festering in his veins, but it cannot begin until his timeline has resolved itself.)

He quietly tells Mel that perhaps he IS ready for a change.

-

He does not expect living through his evidence to be as strenuous as meeting his other selves. But it is. In some ways, it is worse; his memory of the trial evidence is clear, as his mind has never been when his other selves are involved.

(He finds this clarity suspicious: the memories feel branded into his mind in much the same way that another body had been tethered to one time/space.) 

He is an echo, traversing sluggishly in his own wake. His nerve endings shudder as he is caught within the sequence; he is a dragonfly congealed within resin, shaking and shivering and suffocating – until he hits discrepancies between the manipulated evidence and the reality. Then he is in freefall, his insides lurching sickly at the freedom as he tumbles and gasps for air – then events realign with his memories, and the bungee cord snaps him back into the resin again.

He is being shaken apart. But he is unable to regenerate yet.

-

(He is surrounded by death and he wonders why he continues to live.)

-

When Mel vanishes he has a mild panic attack because he knows exactly where she is and what is happening. It’s happening now, again, and he is taken unawares by the fierce onslaught of his anger. 

The Valeyard. (The Boatyard; The Graveyard; The Farmyard; The Scrapyard; The Brickyard; The Railyard; The Stackyard – seven false titles for Six Doctors and a shadow.) The man had/has NO RIGHT to try and steal his life, to steal the rest of his lives! It should not matter whether he has a corporeal existence or not. (The Watcher had never tried to TAKE Four’s life, only GIVE Five life.) And while he stands here, helpless and time-locked, The Valeyard is with an earlier him and is turning his suffering over the Rules, over Peri, into a mockery.

(He signs a piece of parchment that puts the existence of selves-to-come at risk. He had bartered their right to live to defeat The Valeyard, and he will never know them, never know whether they could forgive him. He cannot bear this burden of isolation; he holds it at bay with his anger.)

And suddenly, it is not enough to have simply left The Valeyard for dead. In his rage, he makes a decision. The Valeyard’s awareness manifested itself during his twelfth regeneration, so when/if that time does come, he must remember to concentrate. He will erase The Valeyard before he even exists.

And he does not care if it is murder.

(He has to be angry, he cannot stop being angry in this body, because what else is he without that?)

-

He lands the TARDIS at the rendezvous point and waits for Mel. When she returns, having been dropped off by his earlier counterpart at the conclusion of the trial, he expects to regenerate instantly.

But he doesn’t.

He listens to her tale – not bothering to point out that he remembers – and waits. But even after Mel has left for her room, he still has not changed. He wanders down the corridors until he finds a secluded room deep within the TARDIS.

He screams until he loses his voice.

But even then, he still does not regenerate.

-

His death is inescapable, but now he fears what lies beyond it. He wants to regenerate, he NEEDS to regenerate. (He wants there to be another self, for Mel to offer carrot juice to another Doctor too.) He wants himself – if only his next self – to have a future beyond the Time Lords interference in his life. But he knows nothing about his future anymore.

(Driven by his fixation with carrot juice, he has forgotten about the promise of tea.)

-

He barely has time to acknowledge that the TARDIS is being hijacked before they are spiralling out of control. The hack is not suave (thus not the work of the Council or any other official party) but the precision cannot be denied: the culprit is a Time Lord who knows what they are doing. He attempts to wrest the navigation system back under his control and notices the security breach too late. A bombardment of temporal compounds erupts into the console room with an intangible implosion.

Since the trial sentence, his body has been suspended on the brink of regeneration, continuing to exist only because of the future he had been bound to; constrained by the Laws of Time. But now that future has become past.

His entire body shudders (Two is torn inside out, his body fracturing apart, and Three stumbles into the silence) as a force attempts to tear him inside out.

(None of his other selves – save Two – had known him, had never really considered whether there was a self beyond him. Even Five, who had been best with numbers, had struggled to count as high as Seven. Please, let there be a Seven.)

He feels the shift within him, feels the biological push at his cells, prompting change. It’s begun at last. His body is (finally) dying. He’s regenerating.

As he collapses, Mel screams his name.

(He hopes that he will hear it again – Mel – that he will not die – Peri – here, unremembered – Jamie – by his other selves.)

He throws himself into regeneration eagerly.

-

In the moment of stillness between one body and the next, the loneliness and the grief and the isolation he has been running from slams into him, carrying him over the edge.

He tumbles with it into the unknown.

-

[The TARDIS shrieks in terror, abandoning control as she crashes. She senses his acquiescence and it frightens her, knowing how susceptible he is during a forced regeneration, knowing the self-destructive temperament that her Doctor currently has…that he had now used to have. She is so preoccupied with reassuring herself that her Thief still lives – that he embraced change, not death – that she cannot prevent the entry of the Knowledge-Taker through her doors.]

-

He is so very lonely.

This is the only thing he is aware of, until he feels a hand against his hearts, one and then the other. He realises there is a presence nearby – a companion perhaps (“Mel…”) – and he launches himself into the waking world. He craves company, familiarity.

He begins to speak, allowing his words to displace the empty void around him. (Something whispers in his memories about sound and silence, but why is either significant?) “Just three small points. Where am I? Who am I? And who are you?”

He knows where he is NOT – he is NOT in the TARDIS and his hearts quiver at the absence. But he knows that whatever had led to his current state occurred in the TARDIS, even if he had not woken there; he knows that had he not been, things would be worse. (His mind supplies him with an image of a scarf unravelling and a blur of numbers. They matter somehow.) Before he can tackle the enormity of his middle question, he points at the woman his latter question applies to and recognition is immediate.

“The Rani!”

He seizes an umbrella and scrambles away from her. When he falls over his own feet, he realises he has regenerated, his body unfamiliar. He panics – he’s regenerated and he’s alone and everything (bar The Rani) is unfamiliar – and he wants the TARDIS and – “where’s Mel?!”

The Rani dismisses his concern. She is the same woman she has ever been: detached, contemptuous and driven. Words pour from his lips about her ‘unethical experiments,’ but his anger is a mere echo of what it had been the last time they had met.

He is unprepared for the jolt of grief caused by this revelation. (All that he had been in his last body was anger and now that has faded. Has he lost the one who came before?) His distraction costs him his consciousness.

-

He wakes slowly. His arm prickles and his mind is sluggish. (A man with knowledge of the universe names the amnesia drug and a scientist stamps his foot and glares, declaring that HE had been about to say that.) He is lonely and latches onto the presence of the woman beside him.

“Mel.” She says. “Melanie.” The distinction of her Name is important, he thinks. (For a moment, he gets the impression that she is uncomfortable voicing the shortened version of her name, the way that he had before he had her permission.) She inquires about his well-being.

“Fit as a trombone.”

“Fiddle.” She corrects.

His chest hurts at the mistake. (Has he lost his sense of music and rhythm? That used to be important.) He smooths a hand over his jacket uncertainly. (“Extemporise!”)

When he sees the man’s face in the glass he shouts in alarm. “Who’s that?!”

She rolls her eyes, a laugh in her voice. “That’s YOU, Doctor.”

“Me?” He does not recognise himself. (He does not know that face. He has NEVER known this face!) “I want all mirrors removed from the TARDIS henceforth!” (Who is he now? Who has he become?)

Mel steers him to work, to repair his experiment. She says he is an expert in thermodynamics, says that he told her it was his speciality at university. He pauses. He doesn’t remember volunteering information on his past to Mel when he was before-this-face. His previous self had only wanted to regenerate, rushing towards the future and running from the past.

He looks at Mel, his mind clouding as he tries to find that past. “You remind me of someone I used to know;” a woman who had a vast expanse of knowledge at her fingertips, a woman who had an intense interest in physiology, a woman who wanted to change him.

Total memory recall, physical fitness, and carrot juice: perhaps he is merely thinking of Mel after all.

-

As he works he tries to gain a sense of himself. He sees the spoons and attempts to play them. (He is clumsy, but perhaps his musical past self will appreciate the effort.) Mel slaps them away. (He cannot help but feel ashamed. Perhaps a more silent self would be scornful of his attempt.)

“Do I detect a hint of bad temper, Mel?” She had not possessed a temper, before. He had. Or is her temper now visible because his own has diminished?

“You’ve changed outwardly,” Mel attempts to reassure him, “but I’m sure you must still have the same sweet nature.”

(“Sweet?!” He had protested the last time. “Sweet? That says it all. No, this has been a timely change.”)

But who WAS he now? “You don’t understand regeneration, Mel.” He wishes he knew himself – this new self – better. He wishes he knew himself at all. He has never known this self before.

When Mel reveals she knows where the TARDIS is, he is on his feet immediately. If he IS still The Doctor, the TARDIS will know. She always knows.

-

Mel offers him an opinion on the local species and he is thrown by her cavalier statement. Then she informs him it was HIS.

“The more I know me, the less I like me.”

But this makes him pause. If he had indeed said that to Mel, it would have been pre-regeneration. Does he believe that of his past self? Does his recent statement still apply if he is talking about his past self? (His past self had long accepted that he was the least liked of all who had been met.) Does he like his past self, having known him?

With his mind still afflicted with amnesia, he cannot be certain of anything.

-

He is glad to see the TARDIS, though apprehensive about walking through the doors. The old girl gives no sign that she is aware of him, nor Mel. He grows more nervous the longer he remains unacknowledged.

When he moves into the wardrobe, he falters. He still does not know who he is. (None of the others had known him either.) He has never had no reference for a new self before.

The first thing he does is remove The Jacket reverently. He strokes the material fondly, once, before he is overcome by his loneliness. (He had known about The Jacket long before he had seen it himself. But he is no longer Six, and he should not be wearing this Jacket anymore.) It seems to weigh much more than it should and flops down heavily when he discards it.

The first few trial outfits feel wrong and he rejects them quickly. (While he wants to express his connection to his past, he doesn’t know if he wants to go as far as ‘Time Lord-ish’ yet.) He realises that he might be going about this the wrong way: to find out who he IS, he should begin with who he WAS.

He pulls on a coat, hat and scarf, bundling himself within them. (Teeth and curls, he is given The Brigadier’s approval.) He throws the hat, reverts to velvet and frills. (He finds them in the room marked ‘Doctors only.’) Next is the streak of beige and the cricket bat. (Clinging to numbers, he remembers the comment on his dress sense.) He settles the thick fur coat around him (changing for the first time, he reflects that perhaps not everything from before is lost), then pulls it back dramatically, to reveal his choice beneath it.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Mel’s enthusiasm makes him smile. “Very elegant.”

He turns to inspect himself in the mirror. He has a new jacket, short and near-beige (the item from Six, the colour from Five); another hat (similar style to Five and Four); a chequered scarf (the item from Four, the colours reminiscent of Three); and a handkerchief and tie (both items borrowed from Two, though his style of tie is different). His hands are currently empty, but everything else feels right. (He has not forgotten about One: he has that umbrella to replace his cane.)

“Thank goodness in this regeneration I’ve regained my impeccable sense of haute couture.”

(He has retained them ALL.)

Mel disregards the effort he has put into his decision. He turns coldly and stares at her. For a moment, her features blur.

(“You can’t blame ME for this,” he says in exasperation, though his affronted tone is ruined by the fact that he is the only non-ooze-coated thing currently in her lab. Including herself. He braces himself for the upcoming slap. “Ra–”)

Then she slaps him. OW!

“There was a word.” A Name. “Ra…Ra…” A Title.

“Rani.”

“Rani!” Yes, The Rani. She’s nearby, he is sure of it.

Mel suggests that because the woman on the screen – The Rani – is evil, she should be destroyed.

“Destroyed? Let’s not be hasty.” Unethical and intolerable the woman may be, but he should remain unbiased about what course of action to take. (He can remember Six’s anger from when they had last met, but he is no longer Six.) He must discover his own personality before he can deal with The Rani.

-

“I can’t help feeling sorry for The Rani, Mel.”

The bitterness of Mel’s reply surprises him. “She’s got nobody to blame but herself.”

“I suppose so.” He thinks about the young girl he used to know. “She’s a brilliant but sterile mind. There’s not one spark of decency in her.” Not anymore.

Mel, exasperated by his musings, shoves him back to work.

-

“I must have forgotten.”

He does not need the stethoscope against his chest to know that his hearts have stopped. “You, Mel? Forget?!” He laughs, almost hysterically. “A kangaroo never forgets.”

“Elephant.” She retorts.

He freezes. “Memory like an elephant.”

Something is not right.

-

Mel leaves and his loneliness returns. He plays the spoons again, but the lack of feedback only heightens his sense of isolation. Not having anything else to do, he fiddles with the machine. And then he has company again.

But the woman who enters the laboratory is not the same one who had left.

“You!” The Rani? “Where’s Mel?”

“Where’s The Doctor?”

(She does not recognise him, new face aside. How could she not recognise him? But then again, he seems to be having trouble recognising her too.)

They dance around the table and each other as they argue. He relents first, suggesting a compromise because he knows such a concession will be unexpected. She refuses, as he expects and he insists that her refusal proves him right. She asks what it would mean if she was Mel.

“The worst she’ll do is give me carrot juice.” Carrot juice…? (Carrot juice had been his future in the past.)

The woman – Rani? Mel? – hesitates. “If you’re the real Doctor, then why do you look like that?”

“I’ve regenerated.” And for some reason, his words are more resigned than relieved. (Six had been bitter over the widespread favouritism towards Five, but at least the others had known of him. He, Seven, is unknown.) “And I’m suffering from post-regeneration amnesia.” He looks at this woman and makes a decision, offering his pulses for hers.

(It is only when her pulse is under his fingers that he realises what he has done: manipulated her into manoeuvring herself into the very situation he had originally wanted. This subtlety he seems to be able to effortlessly weave scares him more than any of his past selves idiosyncrasies had.)

“I know about regeneration, of course.” She reassures him. (He had told Mel all about it just before the trial: she had needed to know before she met The Valeyard.) Her single pulse beats steadily.

His voice is very small. “Mel?”

She smiles, wonder and fascination in her eyes. “But you’re completely different. Nothing like you were. The face, height, hair. Everything’s changed.” There is acceptance in her expression and voice.

He calls her ‘Mel’ again and touches their foreheads together. As he straightens, he becomes discouraged. “Doesn’t bode well for my seventh persona;” forgetting his friends, his enemies, his other selves. He must not forget his past, must not lose sight of what’s important to him.

Mel inquires whether it had been The Rani who had hijacked the TARDIS. Yes, he thinks, it was clearly The Rani. He remembers now, the chemical catalyst that had triggered the change. Someone had taken advantage of his condition post-trial to force his regeneration. The Rani would have known exactly what to do: the groundwork the Council use for that punishment had been her work to begin with after all.

-

The combination for her laboratory is 9-5-3. He is surprised by the novelty of this and wonders whether The Rani is also prone to sentimentality after all. He tells Mel the numbers are their ‘age’ – Rani’s and his – but it does not represent their lifespan in linear terms. It is a classification under the Gallifreyan hierarchal system, more akin to a generational and social label. The Master’s is the same too.

9-5-3 is the designation for high-risk renegades. The ones considered to be the most dangerous.

He explores deeper within The Rani’s laboratory. He cannot help but exclaim over her work, but he is careful to state that it is fascination, not admiration. “And sadness.” The Rani could have been magnificent if she had only retained a sense of ethics.

That being said he’s surprised that she has involved him, his genius aside. She knows better than anyone the dangers in giving him the opportunity to meddle. “You’re a Time Lord,” Mel suggests. Perhaps she had chosen him, rather than The Monk – who would have been easier to bully into compliance – because it is well known that he has a heightened sensitivity to the delicacies of Time.

Even if the reason behind this is still considered to be taboo.

-

He ensures he is alone and apparently working when The Rani returns, still disguised as Mel. He plays the ignorant fool, but he forgets that she knows him rather well. (Not as well as The Master, but well enough.) She sees through his charade instantly and removes her disguise.

He uses his scarf to defend himself (because the best way to fight knowledge is with greater knowledge; Four knew the most and Three could have rivalled her with his science) and he runs.

He is forced to leave his umbrella behind. 

(He tells himself he should not grieve because it is not a symbolic gesture for abandoning One – his current body bears signs of physical age just as One’s had, so they are still affiliated.)

-

There is more death that he is circumstantially responsible for and it still hurts the same as it ever did. And a part of him is glad, because this also binds him to his other selves.

-

He cannot seem to stop muddling his metaphors. 

(He wonders whether this is a psychosomatic manifestation of his loneliness – the unpredictability of the conclusions to his statements mirrors his own existence beyond the awareness of his past selves.)

-

He takes a moment to reflect on The Rani and how to defeat her.

She had disguised herself as Mel, pretended to be his friend in order to get him to do her work for her. She used his vulnerability to take advantage of his mind. Newly regenerated, he has been expressing his tendency to be sentimental. And he had previously been wearing The Jacket; he had brandished both an umbrella and a scarf at her.

He has been reminding her of One and Six, and she will expect him to continue behaving in this manner.

He thinks about what he has discovered about himself – this new self – so far.

Neither One nor Six had been very good at wielding subtlety.

-

He returns to The Rani’s laboratory. He is taken captive and immobilised, wired into the main input of her machine. His knowledge of Time is conveyed into the main hub as his mental sense connects with the brain. ‘The barrier to understanding Time is empirical thinking.’ This has always been where his thoughts about Time begin. But, oh, it does not end there.

He is aware of other minds within the brain, linear presences which lack the substance he is used to when in telepathic contact; they feel flat, like blurred silhouettes in faded old photographs. But he is so lonely, so lonely, and he knows he is in danger of losing himself to the unity that would come from connecting with them.

But it is not really these collected geniuses that he wishes to connect with.

The Rani wants him to contribute his knowledge of Time. But he has a unique perspective that he lends to this understanding: he is a chronic Rule-Breaker. He is The Doctor, and he dives into his memories.

When the geniuses reach out to him, he pictures his other selves. As he offers words that are his own, he draws on memories of his past. The contrast between his longing for unity and the disharmony of his other selves throws the brain into chaos.

He is torn violently away from the brain when he hears The Rani shouting, threatening to kill him. He pulls himself free of the chamber and shovels the geneticist into it instead. (He hopes that she is no longer claustrophobic.) When she frees herself, she consents to revealing her plan. (He is amused by this in contrast with last time, with Six. This time, she is the one who indulges in arrogance.)

“A Time manipulator,” he realises and she smirks, impressed and impressive.

That would give her power over creation. The thought is terrifying; the damage she causes on her own merit is substantial enough.

When she declares her preference for dinosaurs over human beings, in an attempt to spite him, he is tempted to ask her how she and The Master had managed, dealing with the specimens in her TARDIS after their previous encounter. But he does not want to anger her (he is no longer Six); he wants her to continue to be blinded by her arrogance.

So he offers her his opinion with firm conviction. “Before I thought you were a psychopath without murderous intent. I withdrawn the qualification.” And then he ‘accidently’ provides her with the answer she has needed.

They flee in the face of her apparent victory. This time when he races out, he does not leave his umbrella behind.

-

His influence on the brain had caused her timings to falter and her plan to fail. (The countdown sticks at four – Four, who had greater knowledge than even she.) He then manipulates The Rani into destroying her own facility and watches her TARDIS dematerialise.

He had known, of course, that Urak had been listening to her revealing her plans. The Rani is not going to anticipate the presence of Tetraps in her TARDIS. But the stately matron is fond of him, and he had asked so nicely for entry through her doors. The Rani will not be pleased. But he still feels sorry for her.

(He thinks of their time spent together, while he was trying to find himself and she was pretending to be someone else, and he wonders whether things could have been different.)

-

“You’re certainly going to take a bit of getting used to.”

“I’ll grow on you, Mel. I’ll grow on you.”

And perhaps he will grow on himself too.

-

He grieves. His other selves feel painted in pastel colours within his mind. His memories of them are clear and intact, but the vibrancy of their emotions is gone, intangible beyond his own grief. And thus the cycle is self-perpetuating.

-

On Iceworld they run into Glitz, who doesn’t recognise him of course. “I’ve regenerated.” And there it is again, the same tone of resignation, the same strange heaviness in his chest. (He is unknown and unknowable.) Glitz is in ‘some sort of trouble’ as usual, asks for his assistance. It helps, perhaps, that Glitz suddenly begins addressing him as ‘Doctor.’ He supposes that he does owe the crook a favour.

-

The waitress speaks to Mel about the legend of the dragon. When she hears he wants to find it, she implores to come along. She addresses him as ‘Professor,’ but he’s too distracted by her eyes to give it much notice. Her eyes remind him of his own, when he had been young. 

(Her eyes blaze with the same fervour of mischief and rebellion, the same urge for the right to choose one’s own life. She would have easily been a renegade, had she been Gallifreyan.)

“Well, I don’t see why not.”

“Ace!”

But Glitz doesn’t want either of the girls to come. The hurt in Ace’s eyes, quickly masked by bravado and anger, reminds him of himself again. (Feelings of inadequacy and abandonment are prevalent.) It’s almost like looking in a mirror, but he’s not quite sure which self/selves he is seeing.

-

He wears down Officer Belazs with his words until the gun is removed from her hands. It is a shame that he can give her nothing but despondency, but that is all he has left to offer.

(Even for himself.)

-

Kane says there had been times when he longed for death. But Kane chose vengeance instead.

(His other selves had all looked towards their own deaths. They all made choices too. He wonders what choice he will make, if he looks towards HIS own death.)

There are thousands of small reflections shimmering in the ice and glass around the room. He cannot bring himself to look at any of them.

-

Ace is sixteen. Sixteen. (He had only been eighty the first time he picked up a weapon.) She’s only sixteen.

His words feel colder than the room’s ambient temperature as he speaks the truth to Kane.

“Your planet, your people, your entire race were destroyed.” He coats his words with the vast emptiness of Time. “Your sun turned supernova two thousand years ago and all its planets were engulfed in the explosion.” Now his tone blisters – such devastation would surely BURN – and Kane recoils from the heat. “Your people were annihilated, your planet obliterated.” His voice is sharp, brittle; ice shards splintering.

Kane is nothing without his desire for vengeance. The man of ice destroys himself, allowing the sun’s rays to scorch him into oblivion. What other choice does he have, when there is nothing left?

-

When he discovers that Glitz’s spaceship – his home – had been destroyed, he has no qualms about leaving Iceworld and its stardrive in the man’s hands. (When the TARDIS was silent, The Brigadier gave him Bessie.) Glitz is a roamer: to ground him would be akin to imprisonment.

-

“It’s time I should be going.”

He looks up slowly. “Oh.” He feels like he should want to cry. (His loneliness engulfs him.) He staves off any tears by mimicking Six, tries to be aloof and obnoxious, but he does not have the talent for it anymore. Mel briefly attempts to persist in her farewell, but she understands. (She had understood Six and she knows Seven.) So she withdraws.

It still hurts. “You’re going. You’ve been gone for ages. You’re already gone; you’re still here; you’ve just arrived; I haven’t even met you yet.” Their pasts and futures were misaligned from the very start, and perhaps will be until the very end. “It all depends on who you are and how you look at it.” He aches. “Strange business, Time.” No one understands Time like he does.

(He is alone. And though this body was born to bear it, this does not mean his grief is any less.)

“Goodbye, Doctor.”

“I’m sorry, Mel.” The words tumble from his lips. (Do they come from Six? Or are they his?) He asks her to think of him; the homeless traveller (because he can never go home, not anymore) and his old police box (the home he has chosen). He wraps her in his arms and holds her close. (It is the best way for him to say ‘thank you,’ for him and Six together.)

Mel decides to tag along with Glitz. He’s actually pleased. Glitz deserves the future that carrot juice can bring too.

“I’ll send you a postcard.” Mel promises. “I’ll put it in a bottle and throw it into space. It’ll reach you, in time.”

In Time.

“Ace!” He calls, asking after her destination. “By which route?” Her grin is ecstatic and his smile matches. (Ace deserves better than what he had had.) “There are three rules.” (Four had given Romana three rules too, he recalls suddenly.) “One, I’m in charge.” (“Rule one, do exactly as I say.”) He is distracted from his memories when she addresses him. “Two, I’m not The Professor, I’m The Doctor.” But he knows she’s not insulting him – and she’s so young – so he does not mind as much as he should. “And the third?” Well, there’s plenty of Time for that.

(Besides, if she is anything like him, she will break all the Rules anyway.)

-

He worries about whether he IS still ‘The Doctor.’

He has been plagued with uncertainty since his regeneration. He had not woken in the TARDIS, so he does not know what she had thought of him initially; Mel had called him ‘Doc’ since before he had met her, and Ace is fond of calling him ‘Professor.’ It is even difficult to recall whether The Rani had addressed him as ‘Doctor’ before she started pretending to be Mel.

Has HE ever truly been capable of bearing the Title of ‘Doctor?’ Some nights he fears that he will never know. After all, he has met none of his other selves to ask.

-

Ace leans against the balustrade, squinting at the preparations being carried out further afield. “A competition?”

“Yes.” He thanks the service drone that brings their order before turning back to her. “It’s a cross between shot-put and archery.”

“But with explosives.” Her grin is broad. “And I can enter?” He answers affirmatively. “Ace!”

He smiles at her. “An extraordinary display of skill, these tournaments.” He drops in to watch them from time to time, when he wants to remind himself that not all explosions are heralds of death. (Most of his other selves had returned here at some point. Six had not.) “Higher scores are given for precision.”

“And the size of the blast?”

“Potency is the key.” He taps his spoon against the rim of his cup. “But try not to blow everything up.”

“I find that advice to be rather hypocritical, coming from you.”

Both he and Ace startle, turn towards the man who had spoken. He stares a moment, then smiles. “Oh, it’s you.” Chuckling fondly, he indicates the teapot in front of him. “Fancy a cup?”

The Master slides into the chair opposite him, eyeing the empty cup suspiciously. Ace scowls uncertainly at the derisive tone the man had used. He reassures her, before asking The Master, “so where are we then? Still bothering UNIT, I assume?”

“Not anymore; you left.”

Ace watches their interaction sceptically. “Friend of yours, then?”

Fortunately, before he has the chance to answer such a complicated question, the spotlights surrounding the competition grounds come on. The lanterns hung around their terrace seem dim now in comparison. Ace turns towards the newly illuminated view; signs ups will be commencing.

“Go on, Ace,” he encourages her, “have fun.”

“If you’re sure, Professor.”

He nods. She shoots one last dubious look at The Master before she heads off. He pours the tea, ignoring the raised eyebrow being directed at him.

As he slides a cup across the table, The Master abandons the attempt at non-verbal coercion. “Professor?” He keeps his eyes on his tea, keeps his silence and shrugs, but The Master is not deterred. “How long have you been allowing this?”

“She’s young; human. She doesn’t know any better. It’s not important.”

“Not Important.” The Master parrots. “Interesting.” He inspects his tea. “What would The Professor think?”

He remembers Shada; Professor Chronotis and Salyavin. (Especially Salyavin, isolated, divided from his other self.) He cannot conceal the dark undertone that his response carries. “He would sympathise.” He shakes the mood off, and then asks the man what he wants to talk about.

The Master’s teacup pauses halfway to his mouth. Looking affronted, he demands to know what had given that impression.

It’s his turn to raise an eyebrow. “We’re talking. Over tea. Plus, you haven’t threatened to destroy me yet.”

The glare directed at him is one of the most impressive he’s seen from the man. “Do. Not. Laugh.”

He tries not to. Really, he does.

The Master looks to be considering whether to throw the tea at him.

He apologises. But he smiles whimsically.

“I should kill you for that.” This is offered without any heat. 

(Again, he thinks to himself automatically.) He sobers. Quietly he asks the man if he is all right. The glare is levelled at him again. “Ah, well.” He muses, sipping at his tea. “I suppose YOU won’t say.” He waits. The Master’s lips are a thin line and his knuckles are white, clearly unsure where to begin. But he already knows what this conversation is about and just needs to get the other man to start speaking. “Seeing YOU again brings back memories of UNIT.” He swirls his tea lazily. “You made my exile very difficult, causing problems with the soldiers.”

The man stirs. “I made things interesting.” A pause. “But your exile is over now.” Another pause, accompanied by a guarded look. “There have been…rumours. Regarding the reasons your exile was revoked.” He keeps his expression neutral, makes a polite inquiring noise. “Rumours involving the First Law of Time.”

He continues to hold The Master’s gaze. “I met my other selves, yes.” (He must be careful, he thinks. The Master had not known there were multiple incidents: when ‘rescuing’ him from the Death Zone he will assume it is the only occasion, until Five says otherwise.) These rumours must be quite vague in regards to fact and timelines, but heavily laden with aspersions about him. This is unsurprising. “I broke the Rules, saved the day. I endure the consequences.”

The man is clinging to his cup like it’s a lifeline. And then his attention turns inwards, he frowns, and the look on his face –

He abandons subtlety. Whatever had happened to The Master – both Masters – had been disturbing enough for the man to seek him out. (He wishes he could ask, but he knows better than that.) “Do NOT try to remember what happened. That only makes everything worse.” He sets his cup down. “But you CAN remember this conversation. Your other self will need this knowledge.”

The Master stares at him. “You would break another Rule?” (The silent ‘for this; for me?’ is implied.)

“This isn’t Rule Breaking,” he scoffs, “it’s Rule Bending. And I’m more qualified to make that distinction than you are.” (There is nothing HE can do for his other selves, because they had never met him. But he CAN ensure that The Master he is synchronous with will not suffer to the extent that his past selves had.) “Now be quiet and drink your tea.” He leans forward in his chair and begins to speak.

He talks about the ignorance that comes with experiencing it for the first time (as One), about being unable to know what impact the memories will have on the future and being unable to prevent it. He talks about the pain of being caught in the middle – the absence of memory (Two); the disconnection (Three); the sensation of being torn apart by Time (Four). He talks about the dangers of living through it for the final time – the risk of alienating yourself (Three); losing yourself (Five); becoming consumed when memories of the past displace the present (Six).

(He does not mention that One had more than one ‘first’ experience. He is careful not to mention how many of his selves have been involved; takes care not to identify which of his selves he is referring to, to distinguish them in any way. And he does not allude to the circumstances surrounding his violations – The Master will make assumptions when President Borusa, The Castellan and Chancellor Flavia abduct him.)

By the time he has finished speaking, all their tea is gone. It HAD been very good tea. (He wonders whether Six would have been mollified by that.) He sighs, sinking back into his chair. “Just the one, twice over.” He murmurs softly, more to himself. “You’ll be fine.”

The Master’s retort to his reassurance lacks substance and is clearly for the sake of appearances; he looks thoughtful. The quiet that surrounds them both is companionable, all the more appreciated for its rarity.

Eventually, the man speaks again. “And I suppose you want me to thank you now.” 

He cannot resist the opportunity this presents. “Not at all.” He parrots. “That would be most unlike YOU.” 

Though unaware of the irony, The Master chuckles. “How well you know me, Doctor.”

The spoon he has been fiddling with slips from his fingers and clinks against his saucer. He knows he is staring but he cannot stop. ‘Doctor.’ He had called him ‘Doctor.’

(He is The Doctor. He has been recognised; he is KNOWN and acknowledged at last.)

His reaction does not go unnoticed and The Master smirks knowingly. “Something wrong, Doctor?”

He pulls a face. “Master,” he says sternly. “Just remember what I’ve said.” Then he relents, lowering his voice. “And I should tell you. I was grateful, for your assistance at my trial.”

The Master frowns. “I wasn’t there.”

“I know.” His smile is bitter. “But I wasn’t talking about my first trial.”

The Master’s eyes darken and as he leans back in his chair, the lanterns throw shadows across his face. “I see.” His tone is menacing. “I’ll remember that as well.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In ‘Planet of Fire’ there are hints that Peri was emotionally abused by Howard. In my head-canon, Six struggles with the urge to exact vengeance on her behalf, especially after her death, but he decides (after meeting Mel) that the fact that Howard would have to live with the consequences of Peri disappearing off the face of the earth after their argument was a suitable enough punishment.
> 
> Pixie was invented by me. I’m still not quite sure where Paternal Six came from, but little Pixie approves.
> 
> Delgado!Master and Ainley!Master breaking the First Rule! The incident may be delved deeper into later in the series, but The Master won’t be giving anything away anytime soon.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; The War Games; Spearhead in Space; The Three Doctors; Robot; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); Planet of Fire; The Twin Dilemma; The Mark of The Rani; The Two Doctors; The Trial of a Time Lord (Chapters 1-14); Time and The Rani; Dragonfire; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


	23. Echoes of a Future Past (Seven)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter of the Classic Series! “But it is far from being all over,” as One once said.
> 
> And I shouldn’t have to warn you by now, but there are Brigadier feels ahead, and MANY Doctor-Master feels. (Seriously, those two quite literally ran away from me in this.)
> 
> -

-23-

He had thought that once he was acknowledged, once he was recognised as The Doctor, that the lonely ache within him would diminish.

But it only deepens. He still feels so alone.

-

(He discovers that the echoes of One’s memories and Three’s memories are those that surface the easiest in his mind. One’s because Ace reminds him so much of himself when he was young that he cannot help but remember those days. And Three’s…well, he cannot be sure why. But he suspects it is because of his loneliness, his isolation, and the fact that Three had nearly severed himself from the others, much like the way he is adrift himself now. If so, he is grateful for it.)

-

He gives Ace some rules specifically designed to be broken – like not carting around Nitro-9 – because he knows that she needs some such acts of defiance. (He sees so much of himself in her, it is frightening at times.) He wants better for her than what he had.

Ace’s name, he discovers, is actually Dorothy. And suddenly he does not mind that she calls him ‘Professor’ most of the time, because when she does use ‘Doctor,’ it feels more personal than it otherwise would. (Susan called him ‘Grandfather,’ and she hardly ever said ‘Doctor.’ But when she did, he felt the same way he feels when Ace says ‘Doctor’ too.)

-

He finds himself in Foreman’s Lane, the junkyard from so many years ago. Memories flood his mind. (Susan, Ian, Barbara.) His nostalgia causes him momentary distraction and costs a soldier his life. Before he has time to feel guilty, a Dalek advances. (He knows the Dalek must here for the Hand, but he had not expected that the Daleks had been the ones hunting it, all those years ago. This miscalculation worries him.) He gets his hands on Ace’s explosives and destroys it. The advantage is still his: he has Time on his side.

-

Once at Coal Hill School (Ian and Barbara’s school, but they aren’t here, they’re with him) he has progressed beyond regret over choosing to place the Hand here in 1963, and has moved onto self-recrimination. He had thought the Hand would be safe here, from the Time Lords, from its then-unknown pursuers, until the time came to retrieve it. But perhaps leaving the Hand on Earth, amongst humans, had been a mistake. Humans have a knack for death and destruction.

The presence of these soldiers complicates things further. The Group Captain (NOT The Brigadier) voices doubts immediately, as expected, so he suggests rather impertinently that he directs his queries to his own scientific advisor. And he is not snide about it in any way. (There won’t be any highly competent scientific advisors on Earth until the early Nineteen Seventies.) And he is definitely not sulking over the lack of Brigadiers to complain to about this military interference.

Soldiers or not and regardless of the humans that have involved themselves in this struggle for possession of the Hand, the time has come to proceed. He has a decision to make and the Hand is waiting. But now that he knows who his enemy is, he can anticipate and manipulate them.

So he buries the casket. And it begins.

He does not know how the Daleks found out about the Hand (though he suspects a renegade was their informant), but he knows what they will have heard: Omega was the pioneer in unlocking the secrets of time travel. They want the power that Omega once held in hand.

But he knows the only thing that The Hand of Omega will bring. The same thing that all ancient Time Lord artefacts bring.

-

He tells Ace about the Hand. She asks if it was Omega’s actual hand. “It's called that because Time Lords have an infinite capacity for pretension.” (And yet he wonders; after all, when he first met Omega, none of his physical body had existed anymore. Perhaps it HAD been his actual Hand once.)

“But you said that both Dalek factions can already travel in Time.”

In a crude and rudimentary capacity, yes. They probably sourced their time travel technology from the fifty-first century originally, the font of all rubbish time manipulators. But even that is not enough for them. “What they want is the power that the Time Lords have.” (Their obsession with Time is his fault, stemming from his first trip to Skaro, long ago.) “I didn’t expect two Dalek factions.”

Why ARE the Daleks at war with themselves, he wonders suddenly. He did not give it much thought when it happened before (when he was Six), too blinded by anger. But he now thinks it strange, that Daleks would bother with internal politics, like…like…like the Time Lords do.

His epiphany is cold and darkly foreboding. If the Daleks have been playing at politics all this time so that the rest of the universe – so that the Time Lords – turn a blind eye to their real objective, they must be planning devastation on a massive scale. Something that they believe will sate their lust for genocide like nothing before. He must discover precisely what they plan to use the Hand for.

-

The man’s name is Mike. This is all he can think as he seizes Ace; his name is Mike, and he is a traitor. Ace gives a wordless, wounded cry and he pulls her away, trying to bury his own sting of betrayal as old wounds are reopened. “Now is not the time!” (He tucks his memories away; Daleks are far more dangerous than dinosaurs.) He cannot do anything about Mike now. (This Mike is not the same as the one he knew, and it is not his place to get involved.)

-

“This is The Doctor.” He announces. “President-Elect of the High Council of Time Lords.” On occasion. “Keeper of the Legacy of Rassilon.” (Alive, because he chose wisely.) “Defender of the Laws of Time.” No one understands the Laws as he does. “Protector of Gallifrey.” (He misses being able to call Gallifrey his home.)

“You have changed again.” The response is bitter, poisonous. “You have confounded me for the last time.”

Of course. Of course Davros is behind this. “Every time our paths have crossed, I have defeated you.” Davros merely laughs. (It matters not that Davros is here, he tells himself, because this time he feels only indifference towards the man, not hatred. Events are already in motion and he cannot revoke the decision he has made. So be it.) He allows Davros to continue with his tirade until the man-turned-machine accuses him of being merely another Time Lord.

“I am far more than just another Time Lord.” He is a renegade; more than that he is a Rule-Breaker. Nothing in existence is more horrifying (more dangerous) amongst the Time Lords than that.

But Davros does not care for such delicacies, and rants about his desire for power and his plans for the Hand. “The Daleks shall sweep away Gallifrey and its impotent quorum of Time Lords. The Daleks shall become Lords of Time! We shall become all –”

He jumps in, having heard enough. “Powerful! Crush the lesser races! Conquer the galaxy! Unimaginable power! Unlimited rice pudding! Et cetera, et cetera!” He continues on, deliberately goading Davros, waiting for the precise moment where Davros’s anger strikes the point between raging fire and ice cold vengeance. “I beg of you,” he implores, allowing his voice to quiver slightly, “don’t use the Hand.”

Davros, relishing in his apparent fear, screams for the Hand to be activated. It launches for Skaro’s sun.

But the Hand of Omega is an artefact of the Dark Times, and like all other Time Lord artefacts, it does not give what has been sought, only what was promised.

The power of Omega comes in the form of a supernova. But in turn, Skaro is vaporised, the planet and its star consumed by the Time that was wrought from within the Hand; for as one force is imbued with Time, another shall be devoured by the empty void that comes from Time’s absence. Nothing, save the will of Omega, could have survived such desolation.

“You have tricked me!”

“No, Davros. You tricked yourself.” And then, because no Time Lord of legend wishes to share the power of their artefacts, the Hand of Omega returns to destroy the beings who invoked said power.

“Do not do this, I beg of you!” But nothing can stop it now, and he says so. Davros shrieks pathetically, and how far they have both come since their first meeting on Skaro. “Have pity on me!”

“I have pity FOR you,” he replies. “Goodbye Davros.”

The explosion of Skaro’s sun is blinding, but he watches it until the feed from the mother ship cuts out. (He thinks of Omega, of the first supernova that gave rise to the Lords of Time, of the man who fell into the void to be abandoned and forgotten.) The light burns the back of his eyes.

(The Daleks wanted the Hand to give them the power to destroy the Time Lords. Now Skaro is gone, the planet’s destruction lighting up Time like a signal fire. And it will have garnered the Time Lord’s attention.)

-

He stands before the last Dalek (never the last, he will never be rid of them, of their evil) and feels cold in the aftermath of the events he has orchestrated. “Your forces are destroyed, your home planet a burnt cinder circling a dead sun.” But Daleks do not care for ‘home,’ only their desire for destruction. “You no longer serve any purpose.”

And the Dalek, having nothing else to destroy, destroys itself.

-

There is a funeral for Mike, who had been killed by the evil forces he had been serving. He decides to stay for it, for Ace’s sake. (For the sake of Three’s memories; this Sergeant Mike may be dead, but Captain Mike Yates still lives, out there, in Time.) Ace turns to him once the coffin is out of sight.

“Doctor. We did good, didn’t we?”

(He thinks of Skaro, of the Daleks and their hunger for death. He thinks of Gallifrey, of the Time Lords and their thirst for power. He thinks of the discontent that has long brewed between the two races.)

“Perhaps. Time will tell. It always does.”

-

Loneliness is a tangible thing to him, as ever present as a scarf or a jacket. It intertwines with his growing nostalgia and he knows he is slowly being consumed by this longing for days lost to the past.

“My nickname at college was Theta Sigma.” He recalls fondly.

(He misses Omicron Pi. He knows this is a dangerous sentiment to indulge in but he cannot prevent it. The fact that their last few interactions have been near civil does not help matters, as this usually precipitates hurt and rage and betrayal and death. But the fact remains: he misses The Master.)

He does not know whether his nostalgia is entirely a good thing.

-

He continues to discover that his aptitude for manipulation runs deeper than he had first thought.

“He’ll kill you!”

“Of course he will. That's what guns are for. Pull a trigger. End a life. Simple, isn't it? Makes sense, doesn't it? A life, killing life.” His voice is compelling, his gaze almost hypnotic. “Why don't you do it then? Look me in the eye. Pull the trigger. End my life.”

“…No.” He presses further, forcing them to falter: why not? “I can’t.” Why not? “I don’t know.”

“No, you don’t, do you?” And the gun is easily discarded.

It is dangerous, this characteristic of his. Not only to those around him, but to himself as well.

-

Whenever he catches the scent of food in the air, he is filled with a sense of anticipation. He waits for the onset of a hunger that is not his, for the overpowering need to feast, but it never comes. (He tries, once, to prompt it. The texture of overly rare animal flesh in his mouth is disgusting and makes his skin crawl.) He waits, when he’s running or fighting, for adrenaline to blur into an aggression that stems from blood instinct. But even when he is angry he knows there is nothing foreign about it. (To deny this would be an insult to his previous self who understood anger best.) He waits, amidst the soon-to-be-dead, for the compulsion to have a pulse stutter beneath his own hands. But the death that he is responsible for is never a result of a primal lust for bloodshed. (They result from manipulation, coercion and psychological duress. But these are weapons wielded by those with intelligence and authority.) He is never afflicted by cravings that are not his own.

(He is not an Androgum…and the ripples have dispersed for good.)

He tells himself that this is a good thing. All of his other selves had been disturbed and sickened by what they had momentarily become and none of them had ever wished for that horror to befall any of the others. He should be grateful that he has been spared the experience.

(And yet, it makes him despair, because it is yet another reminder that he is unknown; unreachable.)

-

In the midst of some investigations he finds himself in a UNIT outpost, where a Brigadier (who is not THE Brigadier) is in command. Her first impression is not brilliant, but then he is biased and she is new. After all, long ago there was a young Colonel who made a not-so-brilliant first impression too and look how that turned out. He sighs to himself. He’s getting old, he thinks.

-

“Merlin.” The knight declares and his first reaction is confusion. He remembers every Title he has adopted, and Merlin has not been one. So he asks if it is his face that had caused him to be recognised. “No, not your aspect.” The young man replies. “But your manner that betrays you.”

(There are others, he realises. OTHERS. Faces that number BEYOND Seven. More selves that are yet to come! He may not be as alone as he has feared. Perhaps he may meet some of his other selves yet!)

More knights arrive and Mordred recognises him, just as Ancelyn had. Outnumbered and disadvantaged, he decides to make an attempt to get the unfriendly knights to leave. “Go!” He exclaims. “Before I unleash a terrible something on you.”

He is surprised that this actually works. A terrible ‘something’?! That was dreadful. (The Master would have laughed himself sick had he heard that.) He apologises in advance to his future self, for the character of Merlin that he is creating for both of them.

-

“Brigadier Bambera,” he says tersely, “if we’re going to work together, you’ve got to stop shooting at everything that moves.” Oh dear, he sounds like Three. (And yet he feels thankful for this. Three’s memories hold the greatest clarity for him and he guards them closely.)

-

He is aware of the rip that tears open in time and space as Morgaine is released from the place that he shall seal her, in his future. The battlefield has been laid. He walks upon the path that has been preordained, following the markers that he will place for himself. That his future self has already placed for him.

(He wonders what sort of person his future self will be.)

Ace disturbs an automated defence system. He finds himself pursued by a spectre and decides that his other self is going to have a strange sense of humour. He grabs the control circuit and tries to disable it. (At least he knows that Ace is safe – he would have remembered she would set it off, after all.) He wracks his brains as it knocks him down again. Now if he had been trying to make a point to himself, how will he get it to stop?

Someone crushes the control circuit underfoot and the spectre vanishes. Oh, of course. How simple. He coughs as a familiar hand settles itself on his back briefly. He picks himself up and stares.

“I just can’t let you out of my sight, can I, Doctor?”

He feels the grin unfurling across his face. “Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart.” The Brigadier; THE Brigadier is here! “You recognise me then?”

“Yes, who else would it be?” The man replies, with that warmly exasperated tone reserved particularly for him. There are some things he can always depend on.

-

The Brigadier’s first impression with Ace somehow manages to go even worse theirs had. He cannot deny that it hurts, to see Ace, who is so like him, turn her back contemptuously on his old friend. (Is this a reflection of their own relationship? He hopes not.) The Brigadier does not seem too surprised though.

“Oh dear. Women. Not really my field.” The Brigadier says this strangely, almost pointedly. (This confuses him: the only proper conversation he can recall them having about women was when he was Two, which had comprised of him listening to a slightly tipsy Brigadier bemoan his failures as a father. But he does not think the man is referring to Ace in this particular instance.) He decides it might be best to ignore this comment altogether.

“Don’t worry, Brigadier.” He says reassuringly. “People will be shooting at you soon.”

-

Winifred and Ancelyn begin their arguing again and it makes him smile. (It’s comforting to know that he’s not the only one who uses banter to express affection.) He catches the assessing look that The Brigadier gives them. “What?” He asks curiously, but rather regrets it when The Brigadier turns the look on him. He thinks it’s probably safer not to ask.

-

Back at the hotel, the civilians are growing antsy, demanding to stay. Impressing upon them the importance that they leave, he stares intently at each of them and they gaze back, mesmerized by his words. Then the civilians demand to leave, because that’s what they had wanted to do.

The Brigadier doesn’t say a word about it, but he doesn’t have to. The look he gives speaks loud enough: ‘been taking lessons, have you?’ (The Master always had a flair for hypnotism, but this is the first time that HE has found this form of subtle manipulation so easy. Deception is an engrained trait of all Time Lords, and now he worries that perhaps he is not as far removed from their people as he had previously thought.) He immediately starts talking about weapons; this is far more comfortable.

-

When the need arises for transportation, he does not expect The Brigadier’s solution. “Bessie!” He trails his hands over the machine reverently. The girls mock and he smiles bitterly. (The soldiers of UNIT had used the same tone when talking about the grounded TARDIS.) He takes great pleasure in leaving fire in the wake of his wheel spin, astonishment in their eyes. Bessie was always good for dramatic departures.

“Show off,” The Brigadier grumbles tolerantly.

-

“Stop!” He roars as he plunges into the battlefield. “I command it! There will be no battle here!”

But Mordred sneers. “Look to your children, Merlin. For soon they shall be no more.”

…Ace. ACE! Ice floods his veins. “Tell Morgaine to call off the Destroyer.” He seizes Mordred’s sword, uses it to pull the man (the boy, the child) towards him. “Or I will decapitate you.”

“You will not kill.” Mordred scoffs. (He can. He has before.) “Come then. Look me in the eye. End my life.”

He struggles, standing on the precipice. But…he cannot. (This body of his might even be incapable of such a cold-blooded act of physical violence since he can wield war effectively enough with his words and mind-games.) Above all else, he is The Doctor. So he releases Mordred, who laughs derisively.

Right up until The Brigadier levels a gun at his temple. “Try me.”

But Morgaine is prepared to sacrifice even her son in her desperate campaign. Battle breaks out again around them and he corrals The Brigadier and Mordred back into Bessie. When they near the hotel he realises proudly that The Brigadier hasn’t once suggested shooting the prisoner.

Then the hotel erupts with dark magic. He darts forward and The Brigadier follows him, rather than pursue the escaping enemy. His chest swells with emotion, which only compounds when he finds Ace and her friend alive. But he does not have time to linger on his relief. The Brigadier finds the vortex; he goes through and his friend follows.

-

Chaos erupts. The Destroyer hurls The Brigadier aside, Ace collides with Morgaine, he takes back the sword and Morgaine unbinds The Destroyer. Then Mordred appears, raging furiously over being discarded, and mother and son vanish. The three of them flee as The Destroyer gathers power.

He has no time and no options. “Ace. Give me the silver bullets.” He turns to The Brigadier. “Give me your gun.” He loads it with ease. The weight of it in his palms makes him feel sick, ashamed, and as such, he doesn’t really listen to The Brigadier’s questions. “Simple, isn’t it? Just like most killings.”

(The Master, The Rani. No, he must not think of such things.)

The Brigadier takes advantage of his distraction. His world goes black.

-

He knows immediately what has happened before he is even fully conscious. (No! No, no, no, no, no.) “We’ve got to stop him!” But he does not make it before the explosion.

This time, he is the one to find The Brigadier amongst the smouldering wreckage. Panic and horror wring him inside out as he throws himself down beside his fallen friend. (Not another one, no, no, no, he will not be able to bear it.) “You stupid, stubborn, pig-headed numbskull.” He chokes on his grief and fear. “You were supposed to die in bed!” (Five was the one who had braved the obituary, after the convergence between two Brigadiers, needing to know.) “I could have handled it.”

“Nonsense, Doctor.”

He can do nothing but shove the man fiercely, trying to breathe around the anxiety that won’t dislodge from his chest. “You’re supposed to be dead.” He tries for exasperation, but his voice still wavers slightly.

“Oh, really, Doctor.” And the man has the gall to be amused of all things. “You don’t think I’d be so stupid as to stay inside, do you?” (He shakes from head to toe, because he knows that The Brigadier knows that The Doctor is, has and always will be THAT sort of stupid. No matter what face he wears.) While he flounders, The Brigadier addresses Ace. “I’m getting too old for this sort of thing. He's all yours from now on. I'm going home to Doris.”

“Doris?” He manages.

“Yes, my wife.”

Finally, he finds the air he needs to breathe again and laughs gently. “So she caught you in the end?” Good, he thinks fondly to himself. Life and love endure. And then he thinks of Morgaine, fixated with her battlefield, and his sudden realisation makes his hearts heavy.

-

They stand over King Arthur’s remains.

“Dear Doctor,” Ace reads, “King died in final battle, everything else propaganda.” (He takes a moment to grieve for the man that Merlin shall one day meet.) “P.S: Morgaine has just seized control of the nuclear missile.”

It’s typical of himself, this lack of notice.

-

He faces off against Morgaine as the clock ticks towards disaster in the background.

But is this what she truly wishes for? “No one is safe, no one is innocent.” He tells her. “A child looks up into the sky, his eyes turn to cinders.” (He speaks to her of Mordred…he thinks of Ace.) “No more tears, only ashes. Is this honour? Is this war? Are these the weapons you would use?”

“No,” she realises. She ends the countdown. “Tell Arthur to face me,” she pleads, “with honour in single combat.”

He wishes he had a different answer for her. “Arthur is dead.” She refuses his words. He gentles his tone, aggrieved that the worst weapon he can wield is the truth. “He died over a thousand years ago,” he murmurs and his voice aches with the vastness of Time.

“Arthur,” Morgaine whispers in anguish, “who burned like star fire.” Her voice shakes. “And was as beautiful.” There is nothing he can give to comfort her, for the King’s body has gone to dust. “I shall never see him again.” She falls into her memory, speaking words that shiver with the power of those long not spoken, words that tremble with despair and pain…and love.

Her grief is a tangible thing. (Much like his has been.) “I’m sorry, Morgaine.”

-

He leaves Morgaine to her sorrow, only to hear Ancelyn’s voice heavy with a new found despair. “You have slain my beloved. There is no life without her.”

He steps forward, ice in his lungs, and catches Mordred’s sword arm as he moves to strike. He sends Mordred to sleep and hears Ancelyn’s breath catch as the man sees that Winifred Bambera is still alive. He addresses the woman as ‘Brigadier’ and moves out of their way.

Just when he thinks he is going to be crushed beneath all of this loss, both existing and perceived, he hears an explosion. He clears the rise to see Ace jumping around ecstatically and The Brigadier standing proudly beside her.

There is always life to be found, he reminds himself.

-

He feels ridiculously nervous. He clutches his umbrella against his chest, does his best to maintain a charming smile, and crushes the brim of his hat as he lifts it in greeting.

“This is my wife, Doris.”

Doris smiles at him, politely ignoring the amusement of their audience and The Brigadier’s reassuring (and restraining) hand on his shoulder. “It’s very nice to meet you, Doctor.”

“Thank you,” he replies reflexively. But then he doesn’t know what else to say (and he’s frightened) because he’s not really good at first impressions and this one is very important because Doris is important to The Brigadier. (Panic begins to seize him, because he doesn’t want her to not like him, but he often makes people dislike him, particularly people important to him, and then what will The Brigadier think if she doesn’t like him –)

The Brigadier cuts smoothly across his silence. “The Doctor has saved my life on many occasions.” 

“Then I should be thanking you,” Doris says and leans forward to kiss his check. She turns to the others, inviting everyone inside.

The Brigadier waits until everyone else is out of earshot before commenting idly. “You see; nothing to worry about.” When he feigns ignorance of what would warrant this comment – because he wasn’t worried at all thank you – The Brigadier eyes him a little too knowingly.

-

He feels out of place in the kitchen. He doesn’t usually do this – remain behind – but he has been so lonely that he couldn’t bring himself to part with his old friend so soon. It can’t hurt to stay a little while longer. 

As he sets the pasta bake in the oven he hears The Brigadier enter the room and asks how Ancelyn had gone with the lawnmower. “It was a ‘satisfying victory.’ He’s declared war upon the hedges now.” The Brigadier says dryly as he pours himself some lemonade. “I’m half expecting him to shape them into dragons.” He chuckles, accepting a glass of his own. “I assume you gave UNIT permission to lock up Morgaine and Mordred because you know they’re going to escape anyway?”

He affects an innocent expression. “I have no idea what you mean.”

The Brigadier ignores this. “You pity her, don’t you?” He says instead. “I’m familiar with Arthurian legend. I assume it’s still relevant in this case, even if they were from a different dimension.”

“Yes.” He thinks of Morgaine and Arthur and their complicated relationship. He sighs. “You wonder if they ever really knew what the other meant to them, beyond their battlefield.”

“Hmm.” The Brigadier eyes him shrewdly. “Well you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

He starts, nearly spilling his drink. “I know precisely what The Master thinks,” he insists, “and I don’t care.”

“I wasn’t talking about The Master.” The raised eyebrow effectively communicates both interest and amusement at this assumption. “I was thinking about two Doctors who were rather quite vocal in complaining about each other.”

The air leaves his lungs. (Two, staying for a drink and blaming Three for his knowledge of the future. Three, stranded on Earth and blaming Two for his exile.) “Oh.” (Five had known better, he reassures himself, even if Two and Three never really had the chance to reconcile.) The sudden onset of loneliness is acidic as it burns down his throat. “Have you…have you seen me recently? The other ones, I mean, with the faces before mine.” The Brigadier nods slowly, mentions the reunion with Two, after the Death Zone. That was so very long ago now. As they begin to talk about the old days, he knows that the affection he has for each of his past selves is clearly distinguishable.

(Speaking of them like this – as individuals in their own right, not just younger versions of himself, with someone who truly understands what that really means – is a blessed relief.)

-

There are times when he is forced to be cruel. Ace’s eyes are filled with terror and hurt, but he stands his ground. She lashes out, like a cornered and frightened animal, asserting that there must be things that he hates too.

He hates injustice, intolerance and oppression. “And then there’s unrequited love. And tyranny. And cruelty.” (He hates Daleks, he hates the Time Lords and he frequently hates himself; he has hated his other selves before, but never now, as this self.) “We all have a universe of our own terrors to face.” (He fears the First Law of Time, just as he hates it and what it has done to him. What it is still doing to him. What it may keep doing to him in the future.)

“I face mine on my own terms.” Ace cries bravely.

But he knows that this is not always an option. If she continues to ignore her fears, her insecurities, and her doubts, she may find herself losing everything she cares about to them. (Whispering echoes of The Rani’s gentle laugh and The Master calling his name drift across his mind.) He would like her to learn this lesson without enduring the suffering that he has experienced.

-

He argues with Light about the nature of change. He takes it personally, Light’s crusade against change. (He thinks of himself and all the different faces that have come before this one.) So he throws shadows onto the situation, distorts everyone’s preconceptions, his mere presence a catalyst for change. And because Light cannot endure the conflict that change brings, Light comes undone, unravels and disperses.

He endures. He always does. He is The Doctor. No matter how he has changed – his faces and his mannerisms – he has been The Doctor seven times over. He shall always remain The Doctor, despite whatever changes may come.

-

Ace barely mentions Perivale when she speaks to him of her old friends. But he knows she longs for home, just as he does: it is not the town that matters (not the Capitol), but the people that are left behind. (She does not have to drown in loneliness as he does.) But when they step foot outside the TARDIS, he immediately perceives a discrepancy in the surrounding atmosphere.

There is an animal scent in the air, an instinct for survival, survival of the fittest. (For a moment he thinks…but, no, it is clearly not Androgum; this instinct coaxes at him, offers familiarly because of who he is, not because of augmentations that were forced upon him.) The wind whispers of a desire to run, for a chase, to become leader of the pack. And he knows better than anyone how to run. He could lose himself with ease if he does not keep his focus.

“He doesn't have to outrun the lion, only his friend. Then the lion catches up with his friend and eats him. The strong survive, the weak are killed: the law of the jungle!” This works; but only…“if you don't mind losing your friend.”

But he’s not going to succumb. (The worst part is that the wildness in the air digs its claws into you and makes you want it. You yearn to start running because you want the freedom it brings.) He’ll be fine. He’s in complete control of himself.

He considers the method by which the kids have been going missing. “Not a very efficient way to hunt, is it?” He frowns. “No, if you’re going to hunt, you stalk your prey. You observe it so you can take it by surprise and then you don’t kill too many.” Is he the hunter or the hunted in this scenario? Is he being chased, or leading the chase this time?

No, no! Concentrate. (The craving to run is hard to ignore. It not only whispers to him with echoes of Four’s personality but also offers him an escape from his own loneliness. If he runs, chases or is chased, he may outpace his loneliness for a while.) Concentrate! There is no chase here, not for him.

But then Ace is swept up in the chase, and Ace is so often like his mirror. (If she is tempted, then so could he be.) He races after the cat, the one with eyes that blaze like fire, and he does not question what has driven him into this pursuit. (He is only pursuing, NOT chasing!) He just has to find Ace, that’s all it is. That’s all.

-

“Why, Doctor.” The Master’s eyes blaze like fire. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

His hearts race and his blood boils because he wants to run, he wants to fight. The Master’s voice is as suave and hypnotic as always when commanding him to run and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to keep his feet still instead. When he refuses, some of the tension drains from The Master’s shoulders, only to return when the human foolishly decides to run instead, upsetting the balance between them as he is forced into action.

The moment he moves to leave – to run – and the Cheetah People focus on him, The Master calls out in near-panic, staying them, ordering them not to attack. When The Master shouts after him he knows he is not imagining the desperate edge to his voice. The hunt is calling to them both.

-

“The Master?”

“One of my oldest and deadliest enemies.”

“Do you know any nice people?” Ace asks in exasperation, and he wants to laugh, wondering if she is remembering that day when a hostile friend sat down to share a cup of tea with him.

He watches the humans fight, run. He struggles for control as the impulse to surrender to the hunt grows thicker in the air. It would be easier to ignore without those blazing eyes fixed upon him.

The Master stands comfortably beside him. (He must guard against this, must keep The Master at length because the Cheetah People fight for fun and he and the man have been doing so for centuries.) The Master starts to circle him while explaining the instability of the planet. His own hackles rise automatically and he shifts accordingly to keep the man within sight.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“I need your help.”

He resists acknowledging this sentiment because that’s dangerous too and The Master knows it, curse him, he KNOWS that the best way to lure him in is to ask for help. The irritating man, he wants to – no. He mustn’t, they mustn’t. He swiftly surmises that the man is trapped here and The Master’s answering smile is rather cat like.

“You’ll find a way out Doctor. You must.” The Master’s eyes blaze. “This place bewitches you.” His eyes change then, filling with the spirit of the hunt. 

If The Master is already afflicted then they are both in serious trouble. He forces himself to walk away, to put further distance between them. The Master lets him do so, struggling to reign in the instincts that are consuming him. (He knows how difficult that can be.) He heads for Ace, concerned that she may be just as susceptible to the chase as he is.

“We need an animal whose home is Earth.” He muses. (It is no coincidence that The Master drove the Cheetah People to hunt in Perivale. The man is an elegant hunter and clearly remembers Ace too, having specifically chosen Perivale in order to ensnare them.) And as Ace speaks of her desire to run forever, of hunger and yearning, he knows she is falling.

(He realises that he may have already fallen himself, just as The Master has. Since running into his old friend he has noticed that, for the first time, he feels somewhat free of the isolation and loneliness that has plagued him in this body. It is still there of course – he cannot rid himself of it entirely because that is who he is in this regeneration – but it has been watered down, pale and insubstantial beneath the call of the hunt and this tempts him to remain. He is going to blame The Master for this; their chase could go on forever, and he would never have to feel so alone again.)

But it is Ace’s friend Midge who falls first to the spirit of the hunt, having attempted to sate the hunger by spilling blood. (Humans; always believing this is the answer. But if this was the case, The Master would have simply torn out his throat the moment he saw him.) The Master catches Midge, commands him to go home. Mitch snarls, then leaps, carrying The Master with him.

(The Master could not have left on his own, despite the fact that the spirit of the hunt already festers within him. The hunters can only leave by returning to the hunting grounds from which they were spawned, and Gallifrey has not been The Master’s ‘home’ since they were both children.)

(He is unsure what would happen in his case. He is afraid of where he will find himself if he leaps for ‘home’ – Gallifrey? The Earth? The TARDIS? He is afraid that he may not be able to leave at all; sometimes ‘home’ is not a place, it is people. But the hunters here can leave only for their grounds.)

Then Ace turns towards him and her eyes are filled with the spirit of the hunt. And she runs.

-

He pursues her as a parent would search for its cub. (He reminds himself of Susan, assures himself that this instinct existed long before now.) He calls Ace back, holding her protectively as she shudders.

Ace leaps for home, carrying them all with her. They arrive on the streets of Perivale, right beside the TARDIS and he glances at his beautiful blue box. He does not think it an accident that Ace brought them so near to it and he wants to smile…but he doesn’t, he can’t, because there is an itch under his skin and his feet are restless. “The Master.” He runs. (He is not chasing, he is just running.)

They find Midge’s house, but Midge is not there. (Neither is The Master.) He glances in the mirror (his eyes are still his own, still clear, he is fine, he is fine, still in control) and sees the dead cat. The child cries, speaking of the bad cat and the man. “What man? Which way did he go? Show me!”

He feels Ace’s concerned glance, but he cannot slow down enough to address it, the chase is on. “Malice.” He tells her. “Survival. It’s what he lives for.” The Master will try to kill him, of course. “If only I could track him down, take him by surprise before he’s ready.”

When Ace drops to her knees, he realises what his tone of voice had sounded like, what he had been saying. (He and The Master have both killed each other before. Would their history of bloodshed carry over into this hunt?) Ace’s eyes glow briefly and she reveals she knows where The Master is.

There is no thought involved – he simply begins to run…to give chase.

-

(Not even the corpse splayed out before them detracts him from the hunt.)

-

When they find Midge and The Master, he throws Ace aside. “If you fight, you’ll change,” he snarls at her, “you’ll change completely, forever.”

(He and The Master should be immune to such metamorphosis. They have been fighting for so long that they may be able to fight their way free of the hunt unchanged. This fight has been theirs since before the Cheetah planet even existed, and the hunt cannot take it from them. It belongs to them.)

“Do you bleed?” The soft rumble of Cheetah Karra carries across the wind as she faces The Master, baring her teeth. He hears her snarl, knowing she has leapt for the man’s throat; hears her wail, knowing The Master has killed her.

(Good, something dark and possessive whispers in the back of his mind, that hunt is MINE alone.)

When The Master runs, he chases. He catches the man trying to force entry into his TARDIS. “Good hunting?”

“Yes,” The Master’s lip curls. “But this is the end, Doctor.” His eyes blaze brightly with the hunt. “Are you frightened yet?”

“No.”

“You should be.” The Master circles him again. “It nearly beat me.” He realises too late that he has been glowering defiantly, that he has been gearing for a fight. The Master’s eyes flash with old rage and bloodlust. “And now, at last, I have the power to destroy you.” He lunges aggressively.

They fall back together onto the burning surface of the Cheetah Planet. They wrestle furiously as they snarl at each other, The Master’s hand on his throat. He shoves the man down, lashes out, preparing to strike back. (Part of him wants to surrender entirely to this madness. This may be the closest he can get to experiencing the Androgum influences that have overwhelmed him in the past and resisting feels akin to forcing his other selves away from him.) But as he gazes down at The Master, blood pounding in his ears, he fears that if they continue like this he may kill the man. (Never again. He cannot, he will not.) “I’ve got to stop, we’ve got to go.”

“Escape to what?” The Master howls, betrayal etched into his features at the lull in their fight.

“If we fight –” (he struggles to move beyond his own sense of betrayal: the fight between them is everything, it’s how they communicate, all they have left to cling to of their friendship, it is consistent and reliable and important and it MUST CONTINUE) “– we’ll destroy ourselves!”

The Cheetah Planet shifts around them, the spirit of the hunt assessing their fight.

The Master seizes his throat again. “You should have killed me, Doctor.” His voice is almost forlorn. Then the man moves to strike him, kill him, and he starts shouting, fighting back furiously. They’re going to kill each other, he realises suddenly. The Master’s going to kill him, if he doesn’t kill the other first. (But he can’t, he won’t, not just to save his own life.) The hunt is not worth this!

The world around them is swallowed up in light. The Cheetah Planet crumbles, but the spirit of the hunt throws itself back into the wind. The hunt always goes on.

When his vision clears he finds himself on Earth, back beside the TARDIS. “Home,” he breathes. The hunt must have let them both go, he thinks, having recognising that it was the chase itself that was important, not the kill. Well, that’s certainly how he feels about it anyway. He wonders whether The Master had felt the same, even after all this time and all the death that lies between them.

He wonders where The Master had been sent ‘home’ to.

And just like that, the full weight of his loneliness crashes back into him. His legs buckle beneath him, but he does not fall. This pain is what he was made to endure, after all. 

This does not mean he is glad for it.

-

He finds Ace kneeling, clinging despondently to his umbrella. He plucks his hat from her head, places it on his own, and though she does not move he knows she smiles.

“Where to now, Ace?”

“Home,” she says. “The TARDIS.”

“Yes, the TARDIS.” He slings an arm around her. After all, hunt or no hunt, he has never really stopped running. And the future, who knows what that could bring. “There are worlds out there where the sky is burning, and the seas asleep, and the rivers dream; people made of smoke and cities made of song. Somewhere there's danger, somewhere there's injustice, and somewhere else the tea's getting cold. Come on, Ace. We've got work to do.”

-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In ‘Remembrance of The Daleks,’ the scene where The Doctor proclaims he is “more than just another Time Lord” was ultimately cut. I kept it in because it fit so well with my head-cannon regarding the Rules of Time.
> 
> (Three guesses who the renegade Time Lord was that told the Daleks about the Hand of Omega and that The Doctor had it. Only, he hasn’t done it yet.)
> 
> According to Arthurian Legend, Morgan le Fay (Morgaine) is Arthur’s half-sister, and Mordred is usually portrayed as their illegitimate child. I focus on Morgaine’s feelings for Arthur as his lover rather than his sibling. I leave the matter of The Doctor’s sympathies to your discretion, depending on what glasses you use to view his relationship with The Master.
> 
> I considered the spirit of the hunt that possesses the Cheetah People in ‘Survival’ to be a symbiotic force, taking individuals who want to surrender their control, for one reason or another. Those who are released from the hunt all abandon their ‘chase’ in some way: Karra is killed, Ace’s grief grounds her, and The Doctor and The Master both accept that the ‘hunt’ would ‘end’ if they killed each other.
> 
> I hope you have all enjoyed this journey through 26 years of Classic Who, and a big thank you to everyone who has left comments and kudos along the way.
> 
> Incidentally, the next arc of this series shall cover the 1996 movie and the entirety of the Time War.
> 
> Some dialogue, text and information taken from Doctor Who episodes including; An Unearthly Child; The Three Doctors; The Five Doctors (Special Edition); The Two Doctors; Remembrance of The Daleks; The Happiness Patrol; Battlefield (Special Edition); Ghost Light; Survival; and others are referenced because I am a Doctor Who sponge.


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